If nothing else, you have to admire Lee Evans’ sheer energy, writes Wolverhampton Civic Hall’s Jonn Penney.

At a time when many of his age are enjoying the steady slowing of life during a phase accurately described as ‘the middle years’, 47-year-old funnyman Evans is taking on challenges of Herculean proportions.

Not for him comfortable evenings on the sofa in front of More 4 or Sky Plus. Evans is putting himself through a Mo Farah-esque workout to stay at the top of his game. He’s presently midway through a five-night run at Birmimgham’s NIA, which is the fastest and biggest selling UK comedy tour of all time.

Consider the statistics: Evans sold a colossal 227,000 tickets in 14 cities nationwide for his Roadrunner behemoth – and that was before extra dates were added.

He hit the road yesterday with his opening night in his home-from-home city, Birmingham, and will shortly be visiting London, Sheffield, Glasgow, Aberdeen, Newcastle, Dublin, Belfast, Liverpool, Manchester, Cardiff’s Motorpoint Arena where he’ll play a whopping eight nights in succession: he may as well just buy a house.

Evans is, of course, of showbusiness stock. His father, Dave, was a nightclub performer: a love of performance is in his blood. And, the energetic nature of his comedy has long been one of its most notable features – not for nothing is his latest tour called Roadrunner, that’s a word that could just as easily describe the show’s star. Meep Meep.

Evans has long been one of the most animated and industrious performers on the circuit and that should come as no surprise. As a kid, he played in a punk rock band called The Forgotten Five: there are no prizes for which group member won the prize for pogoing. His hot, sweaty Norman Wisdom-esque slapstick has been built on three key components: energy, energy, energy.

While Evans will make it through his performances in Brum, don’t expect his suits to, well, follow suit. They’ll most likely be thrown in the bin. The entertainer will become so hot and sweaty during his routine that his designer threads won’t make it through the night. Sadly, over the years, dry cleaners have become so dismayed by their post-performance condition that they no longer touch them.

The impressive thing about Evans, however, is not simply the Fukushima-style level of potency that he displays. The comic once described himself as being ‘as nervous as a nun awaiting her pregnancy test results’. And little has changed.

No, the most impressive thing of all is his drive. Evans refuses to rest on his laurels and is continually pushing himself to do bigger, better shows. It was ever thus. That appetite for improvement was evident during his earliest years, when he grew tired of playing the clubs: the comedy circuit was simply not big enough to contain his ambition.

Fans ought to make the most of Evans’ shows during the coming days. He usually takes two-to-three years to put together one his stadium shows, so it’ll be no surprise if we don’t see him on stage again until 2014. By then, who knows where he’ll be playing. Maybe he’ll book the NIA for eight nights, or go straight to the LG Arena. Or perhaps he’ll just have done with it and take over Centenary Square – if anyone can outdo the city’s gargantuan New Year Celebrations it’s the man from the ministry of funny walks.