He’s a likeable stage performer, Paul Brady, his demeanour genial and his enthusiasm infectious.

It’s just a pity that as singer-songwriters go, he’s about as ordinary as it gets.

Hooba Dooba offers more of the same melodically forgettable, lyrically clichéd fare that Brady’s been delivering for a couple of decades, familiarity breeding not contempt but boredom.

A return to the traditional music with which he made his name in the ’70s might do him, and us, a favour.