PIERRE Hollins deserves to be a big star.

Clever, not patronising, blokeish but bright, and unafraid to tackle issues, he won over sections of a sometimes difficult audience with down-to-earth delivery of some brilliantly funny material.

Hollins’ appeal was stamped all over a skit on footballer-philosopher, Albert Camus, existential thinker and former Algeria goalkeeper (“a bold selection”). Hollins imagined him between the posts, wracked with doubt, fumbling the ball or saving brilliantly while debating the meaning of life.

Hollins’ material on the sexes was warm and honest and world away from the toe-curling supplication of most male comedians. A relationship ended by a girlfriend’s bewilderment at man’s supreme love for egg and chips featured among his many knowing insights into men and women’s mutual perplexity.

His superb accents added another layer of humour to many of his comic observations. Indian sari salesman (“We have two sizes – slim and healthy, or fat”) Polish builders, and hapless French tourists thwarted by the “effortless xenophobia” of the English were vividly rendered.

Sardonic observations on every day life peppered the set. A retort to the checkout operator’s offer of help with packing (“Well, I managed to drive here and to select items from the shelf, so I think I can tip them into bag”) gained guffaws of recognition.

Much of Hollins’ material was topical. A comic attack on City greed was hilariously personified in the simply-don’t-get-it views of a privileged banker (Banker: “You must have a pension”; Hollins: “I wasn’t expecting to live this long”).

He ended the set by picking up a guitar and performing two short songs, the first a brief and “touching” ballad to his ex-wife, and the second a plea to religious fundamentalists to focus on fun.

Compere, Neil Cole riffed off the audience to great effect, leading them on only to deliver crushing, but good-natured put downs (“Oh, you’re a barrister. Is that someone who makes coffee in Starbucks?”).

Tom Craine’s self-deprecating middle class schtick was only a partial success. Some of his better lines (the joy of handstands, dachshunds as once-larger dogs worn down by over-walking) gained laughs, but the majority of his set was lost on an unappreciative audience.

Headline act, Barry Castagnola, delivered gentle, observational comedy, with some good material on teenagers, Britain’s less-salubrious towns (he’s unlikely to gain the freedom of Chatham any time soon) and the importance of reading Dingo warning leaflets when holidaying in Australia.

The Comedy Works showcase for rising comic talents returns to Poole Lighthouse on Saturday March 5.