A triple bill of accomplished student comedians – Haydn Jenkins, Orlando Gibbs and Yaseen Kader – came together for the ADC’s latest late-show, anchored together by the eponymous nautical pun. The opening salvo was a magnificent justification for this flimsy pretext, a song correcting every possible misinterpretation of the word ‘buoyband’. Once clarity had been obtained, the stand-up began: Haydn had the first slot – after telling the audience that he was an ‘awkward, shy guy’ he cast himself around diverse fields of everyday uni experience, managing to find snortworthy material in lie-ins, Lemsip and lad culture.

He has a talent for fairly effortlessly turning the ordinary into the absurd. For example, while some satirists might have tried to mock ‘banter’ in the context of the decline of meaningful interaction in late capitalism (really, I’ve seen that done), he skewered it instead by checking it against the dictionary definition – finding that shitting in someone’s shoe doesn’t really correspond to ‘gentle teasing’. Unforced laughter flowed, not really hindered by the odd technical hitch or script-checking inevitable in a packed performance. Much of the material seemed aimed particularly at first years, of whom there were about three in the room, meaning there was some missed potential; a skit about the jarring transition from high school life – and ballet classes – to freshers’ week was a highlight, but would have been even more resonant to those who could most immediately sympathise.

Haydn was followed by Orlando, who got off to a slow start before hitting his stride with an insider’s (cleaner’s) view of Wimbledon, and a close encounter with Novak Djokovic. A few jokes were told a bit awkwardly and fell flat, but when the routine was good, it was brilliant – particularly a surreal statement to the police read in dramatic prose. Disdaining to have any satirical targets, and imploring the viewer to "just be nice to people, you cunt", Orlando’s material suffered somewhat here from a lack of thrust, drifting from crisps to the nature of being to corduroy, which was unfortunate because it was clearly funny stuff.

Lastly, Yaseen took the mic. He wasn’t as rapid-fire as his fellow buoys, but his material was hilariously rich. He turned the youth topics (his words) of drugs and sex on their heads, seeing coffee addicts as junkies and foot fetishists as the least threatening types of pervert. The best section, however, was rock and roll: layering satire upon satire, he turned the routine into a bluffing game between himself and the audience – yes, Kanye West is a great artist, but how sincere is Yaseen’s adulation? Am I a stuffy old white man for, deep down, presuming that it’s ironic? But this is a stand-up show, after all…
"If you don’t find this funny, then no worries. You’re not a racist."

The material on show at the ADC was often inspired; sometimes, it was hampered by execution. But none of the comedians will sink or swim on the basis of this, and hitches don’t obscure the fact that they succeeded in putting a room full of people in pain with laughter. There’s no other real gauge of success.