Scotland is a nation with any number of local heroes who can genuinely be described as immortals. Unfortunately, almost all of them are dead.

One who isn't played a concert here in Melbourne last week, selling out a big city-centre theatre on five consecutive nights.

Who? The one and only King Billy. No, not that one, not the fellow on the white horse...I'm talking, of course, about Billy Connolly, The Big Yin, the acknowledged father of alternative stand-up comedy and still, after all these years, one of the best.

As he walked on to the stage, the affection Billy still draws from his fans was palpable. There are few entertainers who genuinely deserve or receive such consistently positive vibes and good cheer, but Billy is definitely one of them.

Maybe it's because he's always sort of been there, through all of his various personas - hairy folkie, funny muso, comedian through to serious (and sometimes not so serious) actor, from the 1960s to the present day - Billy has, in many ways, been the acceptable face of Scotland.

He used to be a welder and now he's a film star. A film star, for goodness sake, who'd have thought it?

From a distance, as he appeared, I was struck by the noticeable change in his appearance, with his skinny frame and mass of white hair.

But it was the Big Yin all right. Older, frailer and significantly less physical than of yore, but it was still Billy, still relevant and still funny.

His medical troubles have been well documented in recent times but, true to form, rather than ignore them, he's incorporated them into his act.

Commenting on the fact that Parkinson's disease has led to him holding his left arm in a slightly rigid position, he told us that, on the positive side, he doesn't yet have the distinctive, tremulous shake.

'But when I do', he said, 'I'm going to walk around with my hand in my pocket'. 'Especially when I'm at the Art gallery looking at nude portraits.'

'Ah, it's really not that bad', he re-assured the laughing, overwhelmingly supportive audience, half ex-pats, half Aussies.

'Actually', he said, with some apparent feeling, 'it f****g is.'

And so he was off and trotting. Much less physical than of old, which for me, is no bad thing, as it meant he concentrated on what I think has always been his strength, the words. The patter.

Less audience interaction than there used to be too: once upon a time anyone seen moving around near the front of the stage, a latecomer or a toilet attendee, would have been subjected to a few barbed comments, but seemingly no longer.

Indeed, Billy now seems to concentrate on his shtick - maybe he has to for memory reasons - which, to be fair, the audience don't seem to mind at all.

A couple of times, more than a couple actually, he seemed to lose his thread, leading to a moment or two of slightly embarrassed silence, whilst he tried to remember where he was.

Once upon a time, this was a Connolly trick, but these days I think he genuinely isn't sure of his bearings.

The audience even tried to help him out, reminding him of where he was, though, significantly, Billy eventually found his own way back without their shouted out, sincere attempts at being helpful.

Some of his routine was tried and tested - in other words old - but we, his fans on the night, would have forgiven the Big Yin anything.

In the interests of fairness, I'd have to day that the lengthy section on how women don't scream, didn't work for me - I've heard it before loads of times before and didn't really like it much the first time.

Perhaps it was because Billy tried to demonstrate the way his sister reacted to 'getting a fright' which, given his obvious frailty, wasn't all that convincing that jarred, or maybe because it's just not all that funny.

Similarly, ending by telling a joke - not a very good one and certainly not a new one - (are there are any new jokes?) wasn't something vintage Connolly would have done, but maybe I'm splitting hairs.

He still did a generous hour and a half on stage, by himself, with only a glass of water and a stool by way of props. How many young comedians could have done the same?

And even if he probably isn't quite the force of old, for what he's given us, for what he can still deliver, we should be proud and duly thankful.

He's Billy Connolly. Enjoy him while you can. There's only one Big Yin and chances are there'll never be another.