Pant-wettingly funny comics flocked to Greenwich for a star-studded festival which spiralled into uncontrollable hilarity.

It was that time of year again when the beautiful grounds of the Old Royal Naval College were taken over by some of Britain’s most talented stand-ups – and wow, what a cracking line-up it was.

I’ve just managed to get my breath back after watching some of the finest names in the business including world-class headliner Dylan Moran, each one of them on top form for Greenwich Comedy Festival.

Last Tuesday night (July 17) it was the turn of Sean Lock to delight the crowd of thousands with his surreal and bonkers (in the best possible way) sense of humour.

I’d never seen this genius live before and I was quite sceptical after one of my friends said: “Going to see Sean Lock is the biggest regret of my life.”

Well sorry mate, but you must be dead inside when it comes to comedy.

I’ve never laughed so much in my life – people in front even turned around in incredulity.

But I couldn’t contain myself.

Lock started off reasonably amusing and quickly descended into utter madness, re-telling insane questions from his son like: “Dad, dad, dad, if we can see our reflection in lakes why can’t we drink mirrors?”

And it just got crazier from there.

Criminals, politics, paedophiles and the Swiss all got what was coming to them in the ensuing jokes.

Lock had everyone howling with his outrageous suggestion Ed Miliband looks like a “startled Hawaiian lesbian in a clearing.”

I think that was when the tears started rolling down my cheeks.

The 8 Out of 10 Cats star told us we never get anything good from America, like the death penalty.

It would work well in the UK for bike thieves, he says, because cutting their feet off only means they’d be stealing wheelchairs.

But even better, Lock think all paedos should be liquidized and we should hold an X Factor-style country-wide search to find them all – brilliant.

This hyperactive legend ended with a shocking, yet very relevant claim, about the Swiss only making chocolate to distract from the fact they encourage blood diamonds and “kill our nans”.

By this point, the whooping, weeping crowd was in absolute hysterics.

Lock nailed his set and he’d followed a sterling set of support acts.

Asian/Scottish Danny Bhoy warmed us up with a set of lairy letters of complaint he’d penned to several companies including Epson printers and a candle shop.

But my favourite was his excellent note to Oil of Olay about its unbelievable age reversal skin cream.

He began: “Dear Oil of Olay (Ulay) – Holy ****!”

This would, apparently, grab their attention and stand out from the millions of letters they must receive daily.

He asked what the seven signs of ageing were as the only three which sprang to mind were wrinkles, grey hair and owning a rake.

The whole thing ended in a hilarious request they stop pedalling such a crock of nonsense to poor women willing buy it.

And I, along with a united audience, think he’s got a good point.