SOME comics dig deep and hard for political fodder or downright scrape the barrel to make dramatic world events revolve around them.

Others, like Tiff Stevenson, just can't help somehow getting caught up in the fray - or dallying with it.

Her latest show, Seven, was inspired by a gig she performed in David Lynch's nightclub in Paris, just one month before the Bataclan attacks in November 2015.

"Before it happened, I ended up in a bar drinking with Josh Homme who is in Eagles of Death Metal," she says.

"He didn't actually play with them at the Bataclan but it's his band. I went through various waves of emotions and thoughts in the immediate aftermath and wanted to explore that," she admits.

While not directly connected in the horrific mass shooting that unfolded, her chance encounter with a member of the band targeted in the attack left her grappling to "make sense of it all".

Though, she hastens to point out, the irony, and perhaps arrogance, of choosing to build a stand-up routine around "a tenuous link" didn't escape her. And in Seven, she lays bare her own motives, hanging herself out to dry before delving morality, with a segue into modernity and vanity.

"I knew I wanted to talk about the attacks," she explains. "And it was a really nice way to frame the show and get to say all the things I wanted to say. I'm exploring why these huge worldwide events happen and why we feel the need to make it all about us - by making it all about me for an hour," she quips.

Of course her premise duly dissected and digested, came the minor issue of whacking in a few jokes and lightening the mood - as befits any comedian worthy of the name- without lessening the gravity of her highly-charged subject matter.

But seven tours in, the master of cerebral comedy is no bumbling amateur. She has wrangled tougher tricks in her day and she does not take her daunting role, as she sees it, of enlightening jester lightly.

"The challenge for me now is to write a very funny show but make people think, make it existential and philosophical," she booms. "I know I can do jokes and make people laugh but it's about, 'Where can I take them beyond that? What interesting points can I make?'"

"It does make it harder," she concedes. "I could easily write ten minutes of one-liners. That sounds very arrogant," she catches herself, "but my comedy comes from my opinions and thoughts and they come first, the jokes comes after. It's more rewarding and the work stands out."

Her dogged quest for thoughtful and provocative material has one downside: world events move at breakneck pace and a show steeped in current affairs takes regular rewrites to catch up with the news.

Trump's baffling rise from loudmouth loon to President of the United States not only knocked the wind out of her but made a significant chunk of her original draft obsolete.

"Originally there was about 20 minutes of Trump on he's obviously not going to get in," she adds soberly. "The morning I found out, I came on my period and it felt apocalyptic. It felt like I was bleeding for the world," she chuckles warmly. "I took it so personally. It's so crazy to think in this world when a woman is so qualified to do a job," she trails off.

Within seconds, the feminist in her stirs and she is fired up again.

"It's that thing of 'I can say the most horrible thing, people will give me attention and ultimately I'll win'. Trump is a real illustration of that. It upsets me because all the subtlety and nuance has gone out of debate now. There is no room to discuss the difficult things and I guess my stand-up is a kickback against that. We need to have hard conversations.

"This is probably for my next show now, but there is no left anymore. There's only the left if you want to overtake someone on the underground. It's so fractured and dissipated. People are striving for their own individual politics and I think we've lost our way."

Beneath the political agenda and musings, Tiff has not quite reneged on her acting roots; more to the point the halcyon days of street performance.

As much as she believes is broadening her audiences minds and zeroing in on the scourges of our time, she is never above a wacky stunt, getting up close and personal with a willing guinea pig on stage or launching into vaguely high-brow song and dance. Although, she is the first to admit she has learned the limits of audience participation the hard way.

"I did a show a couple of years ago and I decided to do this Wuthering Heights dance to Kate Bush with a member of the audience. That was quite memorable," she deadpans. "I was bouncing and flicking my head around and we both got concussion. That's one of the dangers of comedy."

Tiff Stevenson will be at the Arts Centre on February 3. To book go to swindontheatres.co.uk or call 01793 524481.