THE age of innocence is over – Milton Jones is maturing.

As much as a man moonlighting as his almost namesake Indiana Jones, cracking a whip and sporting a wide-brimmed hat of Pharrellian dimensions while ‘pulling faces’ on stage can be described as growing wiser.

But the stand-up, hailed as the master of puns, insists his work is evolving and his latest show, Milton Jones and The Temple of Daft, is a departure of sorts from previous tours.

“People come to me for one-liners, but I thought artistically I needed to move on a bit and change things up,” he volunteers.

“This is more of a narrative, loosely based on an Indiana Jones-type premise with lots of props, a wigwam, sounds effects, music. I’ve even got an old school overhead projector. But there’s still the trademark stupid one-liners running through it and of course I run about and pull faces,” he adds roguishly.

“Hopefully it’s taking what I do a bit further, but it’s still very daft.”

As inscrutable as his comedy persona, Jones relishes the enigmatic aura he has carefully cultivated over the decades and which has earned him a coveted spot as Mock the Week’s barmiest panellist.

Although, he confesses his bed head, ‘dressed in the dark’ fashion and even his penchant for one-liners were born out of necessity rather than a desire to make a statement.

“I was so nervous I needed to get to the punch line as quickly as possible – that’s how I ended up doing one-liners,” he deadpans. “Then you become known for doing one-liners and so the vicious circle begins.

“I began experimenting with my hair and shirt and all sorts and tried to create a world and a look where some of these one-liners might be true.

“When I used to play rough pubs and say the one-liners without the shirt and the hair it wouldn’t go very well.

"There was something a bit threatening about someone middle class trying to use complicated words, but if you stick your hair up and put on a silly shirt somebody then goes, ‘Oh he’s mad, that’s all right’.” I usually say the higher the hair the tricker the crowd.

“I’ve had people say to me I need psychological help. Maybe I’m deluding myself.”

Filling hour-long sets with a veritable grocery list of side-splitting puns is not for the faint of heart. In the niche field of the one-liner, bombarding an audience with too much information can be as much of a suicide mission as ad libbing through an entire show.

“There will be between 200 and 250 jokes in a show and I have to move them around and change the formula so blood doesn’t come out of people ears after 15 minutes because it’s too much information.

“Sometimes I work all day on one one-liner to add 10 seconds to my act. One word or just a change of emphasis on one syllable can make all the difference to whether it works or not.”

A wannabe thesp, he dipped his toe in the stand-up circuit to make ends meet in his late 20s awaiting his big acting break. But his first foray was such an unmitigated disaster he did not brave the microphone again for two years.

“Although I had prepared it, at the last minute I thought I’ll just make it up as I go along,” he recalls painfully.

“Of course when I got up there I forgot how to speak let alone say the right thing. Eventually people started booing and talking and I had to go.”

Like his signature style, his outwardly tranquil and borderline narcoleptic demeanour were cleverly devised to conceal his insecurities.

“Everyone is terrified when they start and it’s all about learning to not look terrified,” he admits.

“It’s all about conning people into thinking you don’t care. I don’t care about what I’m wearing let alone what I’m saying.”

This calm exterior has come in rather handy in the past especially when unruly audiences, not least in Swindon, took it upon themselves to test the comedian.

“There are groups of people in Swindon who know each other and shout across to each other and if you’re not careful they can take over the show,” he adds, every bit the diplomat.

“Someone will mention a village and then people will heckle each other; they are not really considering they are at someone else’s show. They’re just glad to be out for the evening. And I’m not quite sure which side I should be on. You just have to roll with it.

"Things will go wrong. But it’s the best thing: you’re on your own with your audience.”

And if the Mr Cool facade crumbles and the mob does take over, Milton has an emergency exit plan.

“I run to get away from comedy. It would be quite useful to get away from some audiences. I also own an old VW camper van that I can get away in,” he says.

Milton Jones and The Temple of Daft will come to the Wyvern Theatre on October 11 at 8pm. To book call 01793 524481 or visit swindontheatres.co.uk.