It’s all off-kilter, with humour and poignancy sitting uneasily alongside each other. You can see it in Butterfield’s performance, part stand-up routine, part trauma dump. He’s a really decent stage presence, but everything feels so carefully choreographed – his arms do a lot of the delivery, waving, pointing and gesticulating, as if he’s learned a dance routine – that there’s an accidentally awkward layer on top of the authentically awkward thing we know Butterfield excels at.