I've had an unusually high number of online comments following my lukewarm review of Lee Evans at the O2 Arena earlier this week. More than when I blogged about Russell Brand's bawdy brilliance, almost as many as when I blogged about Victoria Beckham's naked ambition and hidden comedy potential. I didn't realise Lee's fans were so passionate. But I guess that as 80,000 tickets were snapped up for his O2 shows that should have been a clue.

Most comments were of the classic "Was Bruce at the same gig as me variety?". Well, yes, I was, and I've got the ticket stub to prove it. The trouble is that however good Evans was, the venue was simply too huge – perhaps he should have called his 2008 tour Too Big rather than simply Big. The stage alone was the size of a small principality.

Evans wasn't bad, but 20 minutes into his set I realised I wasn't even watching him, I was watching the enormous screen behind him. And I had a good seat. Given that his face-pulling and funny walks are integral to the act it was important to see them in detail. But I might as well have been watching a DVD at home. With another 15,999 people in my lounge.

However good a stand-up comedian is, no-one has been more enjoyable because they are in a larger venue. This is not just nostalgia for the fact that I used to see Evans playing to a couple of hundred people at Jongleurs. Comedy is about connection and however much Evans connected in the night – which was quite a bit, judging by the laughter – he would have connected more in a smaller theatre.

The trouble with a gig this large is that even if lots of people were absolutely loving it, statistically some probably weren't quite as enthusiastic. From the moment Evans first left the stage there was a constant stream of people walking past me on the way to the exit. Even during his 20-minute encore they were still leaving.

This wasn't an angry storm-out, probably more the fact that they wanted to beat the rush to the station. But it was still not something that would happen in a tiny venue and highly distracting. Though not as distracting as the hair-gelled lad next to me chomping on a hot dog and crisps throughout the first half. I moved after the interval only to have the most chatty twosome in England behind me this time. Never mind the acts, it's probably the audiences at big gigs that really bother me. But I'll save that for another blog.