The year ahead in.... pop music I classical music I film I theatre I dance I visual arts I TV

Can comedy get any larger? And, more importantly, should it? This year we've seen tours by Lee Evans, the Mighty Boosh, Chris Rock, Russell Howard and Steve Coogan that have all played at venues usually reserved for bigtime rock bands. Coming up we've got a tour by the reliably excellent Al Murray, the Pub Landlord, during which he'll bring his beer-barrel wisdom to 36,000 people over two nights at the O2 centre in London. The Canadian-Asian comic Russell Peters has sold out his Valentine's night date at the same venue (nope, I'd barely heard of him either). And even the Kiwi duo Flight of the Conchords are rumoured to be joining this comedy superleague on the back of the cult success of their sitcom.

But who really likes going to these barns? After all, if you want to watch a comedian boom out their material on a big screen, you can stick a DVD in the playerand sit too close to the television. And there's no question that it changes the way an act connects with its crowd. I love the Mighty Boosh, for example, but the more sumptuous their shows have become, the less effective they've been. The comedian Sean Lock put it from the performer's point of view in a recent interview. “I don't think it's any secret that the bigger the venue, the subtlety and artfulness of comedy declines,” he said. “The larger the crowd you play to, you have to sell it in a much more sort of upfront, route-one kind of way. That doesn't mean it's not as good, but it does change it.”

Lock was talking about his own transition to 1,000-seaters - the kind of venues that Lee Evans uses for warm-up shows. Most comedians, from Russell Brand - whose latest tour starts on January 18 at the Reading Hexago (www.russellbrand.tv) - to Ed Byrne, who continues his Different Class tour from Feb 1 at the Wulfrun in Wolverhampton, celebrate their status as misfits. Brand is a super-sexualised outsider. Byrne is neither one class nor another, a man who can pick at the threads of convention even at his own wedding. And Mark Watson, who takes his new show on tour from Jan 14 at the Cambridge Junction (www.markwatsonthecomedian.com), has a puppyish enthusiams that conceals his grumpy-young-man attitude to life's petty irritations.

Comedy is where we go to be reminded that feeling freakish is normal. And if any comic can make that play in a megadome I haven't seen it happen yet (though my money is on Murray to give it a bloody good go when he tours from Feb 22, www.thepublandlord.com). In the meantime I'm looking forward to more chances to see smaller, sharper shows in their natural habitat. For example, the if.comedy-nominated show Rhod Gilbert and the Award-winning Mince Pie, in which the Welsh comic is somehow both furious and supremely relaxed as he rants and raves about so-called service culture. It's the sight of a good comedian sprouting wings and learning to fly.

Richard Herring continues his evolution into one of our most confident storytellers with his autobiographical story of swottiness and sexual frustration in Eighties Somerset, The Headmaster's Son (from Jan 27 at the Penny Theatre in Canterbury, www.richardherring.com). And Steve Delaney continues his extraordinary career playing Count Arthur Strong as the dilapidated old showman from Doncaster takes his typically stilted yet sometimes glorious show The Man Behind the Smile around the country (www.countarthurstrong.com). The video clips used in the show suggest that television, should it come, could be Count Arthur's making. In the meantime, if you've only heard him on Radio 4, you won't know what an incredibly physical performance this is. Sit near the front to get the full effect.

In London, some of the quirkier American shows from this year's Edinburgh Fringe are finally filtering through. January sees another if.comedy nominee, Kristen Schaal, arrive in town with her double-act partner Kurt Braunohler (from Jan 20, www.sohotheatre.com). It's a wilfully odd double act in which they flirt with deliberate disarray as they bicker and stage an awful stage play. Perhaps they're a bit niche - but where British acts might ply this sort of post-modern playfulness with an approximate, amateurish shrug, Schaal and Braunohler play it all with American levels of utter commitment. If they're going to be freaks, they're going to be professional freaks. Get a taste of what they're about by watching their scintillatingly stupid internet serial Penelope, Princess of Pets at www.superdeluxe.com.

And, if you don't mind doing a bit of mental work while you watch your comedy, there's the Pajama Men from Chicago. A few years ago, Shenoah Allen and Mark Chavez were admirable but gruelling to watch. Since then they've added a fresh commitment to the laugh to their narrative complexity, quirky character play and physical skill. Still, anyone who names their show Versus Vs Versus hasn't left the arthouse entirely behind. It's theatre as much as comedy. More than most of these shows, its impact depends on its intimacy. The way they flip between different characters with just a small but definite change of body language - and you know, without having to be told, just what's going on.

The kind of trust that a performer needs to show in an audience to get this kind of material is just the kind of thing that gets harder to maintain as the scale increases. Not impossible - nobody could say the Mighty Boosh aren't cryptic. But, as Lock suggests, there's a biting point between material and venue, between comedian and crowd. If you can't get a ticket to one of the big hit shows, it could be time to head back to the arts centres - or even, ulp, to the sticky-floored clubs.

STEWART LEE

Stand-up comedy tends not to make it to television any more, unless it’s a live concert tucked away late at night, or a bill of comics tucked away on a digital channel. So the BBC’s decision to give Stewart Lee his own six-part series - on a proper channel, too - is a huge show of faith in this 40-year-old from the West Midlands. Lee is best known for his collaborations - with double-act partner Richard Herring, with Richard Thomas on Jerry Springer the Opera. His steady, stealthy delivery are unlikely to make him as mainstream as his former flatmate Al Murray. But over the past five years he has found his voice as the most thrillingly smart, rewardingly provocative comedian in the country. Watch his television show.

Stewart Lee’s Comedy Vehicle, BBC2, February

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