IT’S a brave man who takes a national treasure, borrows his material and performs it in his place on stage.

But the affection and respect that Bob Golding shows to Eric Morecambe in this one-man portrait of a comic legend is the perfect treatment for such a task.

In a gag-a-second caper of a show, he takes the audience through Morecambe’s life from the young Eric Bartholomew singing music hall numbers at garden fetes to the 58-year-old father-of-three who died of his third heart attack.

Other characters pop in and out of the story – his mother Sadie, who wipes the greasepaint off his face with a spit-soaked hanky, and a series of managers – Golding’s talent as a voice actor enriching each role.

And, of course, there would be no Eric without Ernie – portrayed as a ventriloquist’s dummy in the show, a gentle dig at the comic’s diminutive size.

He is shown as Wise by name and nature – his advice booming out like an ancient oracle as the puppet’s jaw clunks up and down.

But, as teasing as this portrayal is, it’s touching, too – revealing the deep, generous nature of the duo’s friendship.

Tim Withnall’s script is a 100-minute tongue twister that demonstrates a lexical sense of fun – mixing Morecambe’s own gags with fast-paced lyrical descriptions of a life lived to make others laugh.

It doesn’t replicate a series of Morecambe and Wise sketches but pays tribute to them – The Stripper at breakfast scene recreated with a giant syringe and a fistful of pills.

Just like the real thing, the audience delighted in being in on the joke, and Golding won a round of applause for simply popping his head around the stage curtains. To half-quote the man himself, you could hardly see the join.

Laura Davis