Michael Moore, The Roundhouse, London

The satirist who gets things done

It's not often that a man who combines the roles of best-selling author, acclaimed film-maker and comic dissident turns up in the capital. So it's perhaps unsurprising that the audience for the opening night of Michael Moore's month-long run at this venerable venue should boast so many representatives of the, er, "creative" community. It's as if Hampstead has rolled itself down the hill to Chalk Farm for the night. Any self-respecting revolutionary would be furiously building walls to put most of the crowd up against come the glorious day (though the chauffeurs gathered in the bar area will probably be spared...).

It's hardly Moore's fault that he now represents the socially acceptable side of left-ish protest. His excellent new book, Stupid White Men, topped the US bestseller charts despite the reluctance of his publishers to promote, or even release, a work that refused to unthinkingly fall in line behind the "president", as Moore always describes the victor of 2000's right-wing coup d'état. And his most recent movie, Bowling for Columbine, scooped an award at the Venice Film Festival, the first documentary ever to do so. In European political terms, Michael Moore is downright middle of the road; except in one way. He actually gets things done.

This, his first ever "stand-up" show, was originally scheduled for this year's Edinburgh fringe (at a more manageable hour and a quarter) until Moore withdrew after a family bereavement. Warmed up by a tape featuring a selection of Michigan's finest white musicians (including "The Big Three Killed My Baby", the White Stripes' "tribute" to Detroit's irresponsible motor industry, the subject of Moore's first film Roger and Me), he bounds on to regale us with stories about curing Michael Portillo of prejudice simply by touching him on the shoulder, how as soon as he leaves the States Dubya wins the mid-term elections, and even sings a clumsy though funny song dedicated to that Axis of Evil – Bush, Blair, bin Laden and Saddam. ("When you go see Noam Chomsky you don't get that. He can't sing," boasts our host.)

It's genial stuff. Calling up Middle Eastern fast-food joints in a hunt for naughty Osama might be sub-Graham Norton, but even Moore is outwitted by the manager of Oman's branch of Pizza Hut (who, to be fair, proves considerably smarter than the FBI representative he later speaks to).

An attempt to suck up to the locals with a trivia quiz between the smartest Yank in the room and an English alleged "actress" proves only that thesps don't read very much, whatever their nationality.

More telling is his monologue on the "can't someone else do it" culture that allowed the September 11 terrorists to overcome four planeloads of middle-class Americans armed only with tiny boxcutters. Here, you feel Moore is going straight for the somewhat self-satisfied audience, the people who during tonight's Q and A session complain about the (perfectly reasonable) ticket prices or bear such plummy accents it's a miracle Moore even comprehends them (I couldn't). Neither a stand-up routine or a lecture, Moore's entertainment is worth seeing, but do try to select a night when he's donated some of the tickets to good causes. It'd be interesting to see how those he hopes to represent react.