Does a writer, who has no stage presence, reading extracts from a book of his various jottings of little merit, constitute a comedy performance? Well, it does not for me. When the writing might raise a flicker of a smile at best, tedium sets in. There is no attempt to interact with the audience. This is one of the least funny shows I have ever witnessed. This turgid hour features routines about cats crapping. This is about all anybody needs to know of the content.   *