IN December 2008, the 47th sexiest man in Wales discovered the full extent of his popularity with the public.

Rob Brydon found himself with a space in his schedule and the offer of a London venue at the Apollo theatre for a week.

“I approached it pretty nonchalantly, to be honest,” he says. “Thought, it will fill in a gap in the lead-up to Christmas.”

To nobody’s surprise, but his own, the man with one of the least inflated egos in showbiz found his performances were a sell-out.

The week-long stand turned into a three-week booking and from there expanded into a year-long tour around the country.

Rob’s show arrives at the Cliffs Pavilion, Westcliff on September 20.

In one sense, Essex should be something of a homecoming for the Welsh comedian. One of his best-known roles, outside stand-up, is, of course, as Uncle Bryn in the BBC TV sitcom Gavin and Stacey.

In fact, Rob sounds a bit uncertain about his Essex connections. “Essex? Gavin and Stacey?”

“Yes, the show’s set in Billericay.”

“Oh right,” says Rob, now in command of his geography. “But the series wasn’t shot in Essex. It was all filmed around Barry and Cardiff. The houses and streets you see in the Essex scenes, they’re all in south Wales, you know.”

These were the streets that formed the backcloth to Rob’s own childhood. He shares this home territory with Gavin and Stacey writer Ruth Jones, which is why these old school friends both work in south Wales whenever possible, even if it means dressing up Welsh valleys as Billericay cul-de-sacs.

Rob’s Welshness is obvious vocally as well. Although he is a master of accents and a skilled impressionist, he retains the Welsh lilt.

Still, if the Essex links are limited, his ability to connect with Essex audiences – and Geordies, and Glaswegians, and Brummies – is unquestioned. Rob’s humour is universal and it strikes home with audiences everywhere.

“I don’t think I have any particular pet topics to my humour, or any obsessions that drive me,” he says. “I pick up my material as I go along, from looking at life. I make humour out of things people recognise in their lives.”

Much of his present crop of humour is tied up with domesticity. Subjects include the impact of becoming a dad relatively late in life at 42, the tyranny of home gadgets, and, a particular hit with audiences everywhere, the horrors of home birthing.

Earlier in his career, his routines were packed with reference to Wales and what it meant to be Welsh.

“I’ve trimmed the Welsh stuff down a bit now, though I still play it up for Welsh audiences,” he says. “I don’t want it to get tedious. There are other things to get laughs from.”

Shorn of the emphasis on Welshness, though, how does one identify Rob’s style?

Partly his act can be summed up by the things he isn’t. He’s not offensive, or manic, or weird or alternative or in-your-face.

Words that crop up to describe him and his act include nice, modest and uncontroversial. Hence the double-edged compliment of the poll that named him 47th sexiest living Welshman. He’s not a star who brings out wild emotions.

As he says: “It’s nice to be famous, but my sort of fame is quiet. People are just nice to me generally. I don’t get bothered much if I’m out in the street.”

He grew up in Port Talbot and began his career on Radio Wales.

His talent for accents meant he was already making £200,000 a year from voiceovers before he became famous overnight in the comedy Marion and Geoff.

Since then, Rob says chat shows, sitcoms, voiceover work and quiz shows has left him “not much time to do anything else except charity work”.

But Sunday remains sacrosanct to family. He says: “As long as I can keep those family days, I’m never going to be short of material.”