Oxford Imps Game Show (Live). Burton Taylor Studio

Playing games is at the heart of improv. In its heyday, the ground-breaking Channel 4 show Whose Line Is It Anyway? won every comedy award going by presenting outrageously talented comedians with a series of game-like scenarios to turn into improvised sketches. And even today, there’s no doubt that the funniest panel shows on TV and radio are the ones that give genuine opportunities for improvised comedy. Just compare Radio 4’s The Unbelievable Truth with BBC1’s Would I Lie To You? Both are about trying to get lies past the opposing team. Both star David Mitchell. In fact, both are very funny. But Would I Lie To You? has the edge because it depends entirely on improv, whereas The Unbelievable Truth is built around prepared mini-lectures read out by the contestants.

I promise I will get to tonight’s show in a minute. A bit more on improv first.

As a TV comedy producer in the 1990s I was privileged to work with some of the funniest comedians of the last generation. The greatest of them all was Caroline Aherne. The night we recorded the pilot of her comedy chat show The Mrs Merton Show, Caroline interviewed her guests without a script; she just had a short list of areas for discussion, and beyond that she improvised. It was so funny, we could not get the audience to leave at the end. They yelled for more. The executive producer and director, sitting next to me in the control room, were asking (in between bouts of hysteria), ‘Where is she getting this from?’ It was the only time I ever made a pilot and knew in my bones, before even leaving the studio, that it would be commissioned by a major broadcaster.

After that night, The Mrs Merton Show became a national series. The pressure to deliver week after week was intense, and Caroline had to depend on prepared jokes. Simply believing that you can walk out there in front of an entire nation with nothing in your head, and trust yourself to be funny… well, that’s asking a lot. But the truth is: hilarious, inspired and brave as she was, she was never as funny as on that first night, when it all just came naturally. Improvisation is simultaneously the easiest and the hardest thing to do as a performer. You can never predict which way it’s going to go – and of course, the secret is learning not to mind.

All of which explains why games are such a valuable part of the improviser’s toolkit. They give you structure, but leave room for spontaneity. They’re both a crutch and a challenge. So what a wonderful idea it is of the Oxford Imps to create a meta-improv game show. Game Show Live uses the format of a cheesy Saturday-night TV entertainment special to build a scaffolding for games, songs and even a soupcon of actual story – and, like all the best improv evenings, it’s an hour of challenges, surprises and virtuosic generosity.

The audience is involved throughout the show, with two members chosen at random to act as team leaders, and a third added later. Suggestions are constantly wrung from the crowd, who are rewarded with sweets flung by the performers, like performing seals at a dodgy Marine World. I felt like clapping my flippers at one point when I caught a couple of orange Starbursts.

Whip-smart though all the performers are, I have to confess a soft spot for Lily the keyboard player, sitting at the back looking hilariously skanky in fluffy slippers and shades, with a fag hanging out of her mouth. Laconic and absurd, she has the confidence not to worry about being funny. But all the Imps are on top form, mischievously outsmarting each other, creating scenarios that wander into areas so unexpected even they sometimes look surprised at what they’re saying.

And last night was, let me tell you, a tough gig. Of the three ‘innocent’ members of the audience chosen at random to take part in the show, one was a part-time actor, and the other two were members of rival improv groups in Oxford (one being House of Improv, the other The Awkward Actors). And that’s not all. They were all there with several other members of their companies. I can’t say for sure, but it may be that the entire audience consisted of other improvisation groups, and I was the only non-actor in the room, like the unsuspecting Ronald Gladden in the recent Amazon series The Jury.

This definitely upped the pressure on the Imps. But they rose to the challenge with aplomb, and while it wasn’t quite the pilot of Mrs Merton, the laughs were constant throughout. What more could you ask for?

With a particularly beady critical eye, I might say that, for me, some of the games felt a little over-scaffolded. There was one that involved a conversation being steered by random words spoken by the contestants in alphabetical order (and later in reverse alphabetical order), which felt like the rules were possibly more of a hindrance than a help. And I would have liked to see a bit more of an opportunity to let stories and ideas develop across the course of the performance. But it’s improv! On another night these very elements might be the highlights of the show.

During the ‘commercial break’ I found myself suggesting my elderly father’s former company (a small industrial cleaning supplier on Merseyside called Lixall Products) as sponsor for the evening. And it was not only funny but also touching to see what the Imps did with it. My dad is 94 this year, and he still beats me at table tennis. When I tell him about this in the morning, it will make his day. Ultimately, that’s what great improv does: it leaves you with a warm glow of appreciation, because it depends on factors that are in short supply in our society at present: listening to the person next to you, and responding constructively with understanding and respect.

Improv can save the world.