Rory Bremner, Albery Theatre, London

Pity Rory Bremner. He's a genuine satirist, wanting to use his remarkable gifts to attack the pompous giants who dominate and rule us. He put himself on the map in the dying days of the Major government, forming a partnership with the bedrock '60s satirists, John Bird and John Fortune. But now they find themselves beached in an age without true targets.

There is no genuine political debate for them to latch onto. These days it is all about the delivery of services – better trains, more doctors. Few are arguing about how they should be delivered. There are no sex scandals beyond the PM's own "weapon of mass procreation". The villains are finally in jail and the bumbling idiots are quickly sacked.

So who is Rory to satirise? Whence will come the bile and anger he is so capable of? He admits to joining the Liberty And Livelihood shindig but only because he hadn't received this year's Boden catalogue. There is no Opposition to speak of. His Iain Duncan Smith is terrific but essentially a one-trick pony: calling on the audience to ask him questions, in response to each he stands gormless and silent and then admits: "No, you've got me there. You're too quick for me."

Even his opening number as Blair, disappointed in all of us for coming to snigger in the dark at our leaders, has already been upstaged by the man himself. Bremner does his gag about apologising to Dubya for winning the Ryder Cup – but on Tuesday Blair did it himself in Blackpool.

Bremner stands alone as a satirist in age when the people who used to write Spitting Image now write gags for cabinet members and Have I Got News For Your is satisfied with mockery rather than satire.

Bird and Fortune, who brilliantly laid into the double-think and desperate evasions of the last Tory government, now employ their bureaucratic dead pan to dissect the inadequacy of the British army's tanks or Pet Passports. Again, it's all about delivery rather than policy, about public services rather than public debate.

But this is nevertheless a highly sophisticated show, making us listen, making us think. It reaches a peak with a podium speech which Blair must continue to make in spite of his autocue being taken over by Bush's speechwriters. Watching him translate each sentence into British idiom is a joy and it is even more joyous when he doesn't ("This great nation which can take five days to cross by train...")

But in all there are simply too many references to slow moving/not moving trains. John Fortune reprises his monologue from the TV show about a sado-masochist finding even greater relief in the sheer grimy misery of the Connex South Central from Trowbridge to Hastings. It's glorious but it's easy meat.

But this what fate – some call it politics – has delivered up as base metal for Bremner. He makes the best of it, doing only one of his Come- Back-Mike-Yarwood-All-Is-Forgiven forays into TV celebland. You won't find anything wittier or more stretching in the West End. But you won't find any Shout It From The Barricades satire until our glorious leaders start to provide him with the raw materials.