The enjoyably conspiratorial vibe of Amstell’s telling is heightened at once by the almighty clanging of his namedropping. Pearls of life wisdom from Oscar winners delivered at dinner offer a medium for him to be a mite philosophical whilst showing off, and some excellent wing-man action from a Grammy-winning singer gives serendipity a little nudge. 

He’s sincerely playful, leaning into his own ego deliciously whilst also delving into his own psyche, his childhood shyness, and awkwardness with a light touch. We are generously invited into a cake slice of his life, the many layers of civil partnered boyfriend, mushroom consultation, personal epiphanies, and Gucci party in clear view, seasoned with selected flights of fancy for our delectation. “I’m making art!” Amstell scolds at those with crisps and folded arms within his sightline. And the careful assembly of the show as a delicate and flamboyant Fabergè egg for all to celebrate and admire comes into view easily when I squint.

‘I Love It Here’ is more storytelling than stand up, and Amstell himself admits that he is becoming more drawn to the idea of giving talks than structuring laughs throughout future shows. This is still peppered with caustic punchlines and revelry – particular joy taken in describing how much he enjoys sex, casting off shame of the past in giddy abandon. 

Amstell paints himself as a creative explorer, a Puck, and a reflective man yearning to show kindness to his younger self as he has learned to love his current incarnation. As capricious as he may be there’s a tenderness to his past, internal and external homophobia bruised, and unbridled joy at where he is now – chasing singers through Hollywood parties under the eyes of twinkling stars.