And they say Americans don’t do irony. “I’m huge in the States,” murmurs Todd Barry, who is as drily dubious about his own talents as he is about the wonky world around him. Despite releasing his own albums, guesting on the Flight of the Conchords’ sitcom and opening for Ricky Gervais at Madison Square Garden next month, the gnarly 44-year-old is playing to a selective midweek crowd. “American cult comedian,” he mourns, looking at the advertising catchline for his five nights here. “That should bring ’em in, huh? ‘He’s not even a success in his own country!’ ”

But Barry is the real deal, a stand-up who infuses his observational comedy with a wonderfully individual disdain. A typical Barry routine involves him picking out an irksome oddity – hearing aids designed to look like Bluetooth headsets; men who make smalltalk at the urinal – and then spinning it around till the notion becomes so palpably absurd that it makes you wonder if maybe every idea is secretly this stupid.

Testing logic to its limits is also the comic choice of eight out of ten punchable wiseacres, of course. But the watchful Barry has the taste to know how far he can take one idea before dropping it for another. He is a suave homunculus with a close-mike delivery who ropes in everything and everyone into his world of sardonic ridicule. Rolling his eyes at the nonsense plied by estate agents, he mentions an apartment whose advert boasted of a “white-tile bathroom”. What kind of bathroom? “Just try to think of every bathroom you’ve been in,” he sighs, “including the one at the bus station.” Hey, if you can get fresh mileage out of such an old topic, you’re pretty damn good.

The last time Barry was in town, last summer, he stole the show from a bill of fellow New Yorkers headed by David Cross. His wry militancy works best when butting up against a bigger occasion – but even so his audience interaction, when it gets going here, is sure and sharp. “Woman in the red skirt,” he announces, “tell your clearly bored boyfriend it’s nearly over.”

There’s a trace element of Stephen Wright or Emo Philips in his worldview, a bit of Bill Murray in his delivery, but Barry has his own bizarre knack for making it all seem natural. “Sir,” he says to me, spotting my notebook, “you’ve been laughing the whole f***ing time, I will follow up.” Well, don’t believe the antihype: Todd Barry is low-key, highly skilled and utterly hilarious. Downplay your way out of that, funnyman.

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