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Just The Tonic at the Caves
Aug 15-27 (18.20)

Mortui Non Mordent

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‘As Seen on CCTV’ sees Matt Price storytelling about a moment of clarity experienced whilst speaking to a ‘Life Therapist’. Life Therapists, as we are informed, make their living reframing the negative in life into the positive. Whilst watching, I had my own moment of clarity. This hour of warmly and energetically delivered colloquial jokes, fine tuned impressions, and barely suppressed frenetic energy is ‘anti-life coaching’, a light look at those individuals and situations which somehow manage to turn positive into negative, which may well be a product of Matt’s particularly irritating life therapist who is anti-stand up, pro-theft, and is more intent on selling Matt ‘whale song’ CD’s than his own goals and aspirations.

Our host introduces himself, and his intense stage presence, by announcing that a member of the audience has bought him a pint before the gig. By the end of the show he’s openly proclaiming that he wished it had been of vodka, rather than lager. The audience laugh in disagreement, as the improvised responses to heckling and the near constant riffing with the crowd are stand out highlights. He describes himself as a ‘people person’, which is just as well given a stage persona which occasionally borders on aggressive. This is not an issue, as the majority of the real-life characters he brings onto stage throughout the show are all of a similarly aggro ilk.

Cockney gangsters, Glaswegians (redundantly) characterised as unerringly psychopathic, and Cornwallian yokels all get their chance to rage against the machine, putting Matt’s own initial frenetic energy firmly into context. All of this colloquial material is well observed with matching facial punctuation and very funny. This is unsurprising given that he’s from Cornwall himself, his wife is Glaswegian, and he interviews criminals for a living. The skills he’s picked up in that unusual vocation are put to excellent use throughout the show while dealing with the increasingly tipsy, and talkative, punter who bought him a pint before the gig, and some of the biggest belly laughs from the audience result from his excellent riffing with the crowd during which he is, counterintuitively, at his most calm even if he does discharge our heckler to the bar before asking the crowd if they’d be willing to take part in a ‘Strangers on a Train’ style intervention involving cling-film and a lamppost.

Other highlights include anti-Devon rants, Death Metal impersonations, and an excellent anecdote about watching the performance of a cover version of ‘You Suffer’ by Napalm Death. Call backs throughout the set to the record breaking feats of Annabelle Chung are not received as well, and sandwiched between Matt’s neat character work and observational skills they stick out somewhat. Despite this it’s a solid hour of laughs with a charming performer, and an amusing insight into niche regional perspectives which are comfortingly similar wherever in the provinces Matt takes us.

Ewan Law

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32 Below
Aug 13-27 (20:30)

Olet Lucernam

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Wow ! Ten days gone already in Edinburgh – it goes quick – too quick! But the shows are flowing thick & fast still, & so to the Moontalking of Matt Hobs. OK, there is no point in beating about the bush, I’ll come straight out & say it – this is a niche show. For anyone interested in the Moon Landings you’re gonna really adore it, as was well-attested by the seriously loving chuckle-energy Matt was creating in the cellar room of 32 Below.

This maestro of Bristolian wit has brought a fresh solo production to Edinburgh, which is a real exploration of all things Moon Landing, powerpointed to perfection, & compositively full of fun & interesting facts. I mean, who out there knows about the Moon Landing’s ‘designated driver,’ a man call’d Michael Collins, who never left the module while on the moon. Yeah, that kinda stuff, it’s cool, y’know – there was all Humanity, prostate under the laws of gravity, while the tiniest atomic slither of its DNA was hurtling into the very heavens hitherto deem’d unconquerable. Momentous times indeed!

Intriguingly, but I don’t think on purpose, this show really does mirror an Apollo expedition – an explosive blast off, an exciting climb thro the stratospheres of his materielle, some actual shots of the moon landing, follow’d by a gentle rash of explorations about a vacuumous wildnerness. That’s a little harsh on Matt, actually, cos what I’m really trying to say is the first half was full of comedic energy, but the second was more of an A-level science lecture, when pictures of monkeys in space-suits really jarr’d with the little Buddha in me.

What was really funny, on a different level, is that only two people rais’d their hands to say they were suspicious that the Moon Landings weren’t actually real – & bloody hell, I was one of ’em. This was follow’d by a brief attack on Conspiracy Theorists – which Matt, if you’re reading this, has had no effect whatsoever on my appreciation of your show. What did inspire me, however, is the enlightening information proffer’d as to the fact that footage of the Apollo 12 moon landing was conveniently ‘lost’ when the astronaut pointed the camera at the sun! That there’s golden manna for Conspiracy Theorists, & I think I’ll nip up to the National Library of Scotland on George IV Bridge tomorrow morning & see what Stanley Kubrick was up to in November 1969. Clearly not working on the second moon landing.

But that’s just me bouncing about a bit, riffing of Matt’s excellent scholarship, for at the core of ‘Moontalker,’ Matt entertains us all thro’ both his, & our, love of knowledge. He is a qualified scientist, & also possesses innate potential to be very funny – but on this particular occasion, at this particular Fringe, I feel that only if you have any interest in space, astronauts, the moon, & especially the landings upon it – that you’ll truly enjoy this show. It’ll probably make your Fringe.

Ultimately, its learning, its comedy & its cool; & with Matt being such a smashing guy, like, all serv’d up with a dash of Falstaffian charisma, ‘Moontalking’ is a fascinating wee treat at the Free Fringe.

Damo

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Monkey Barrel 3
Aug 3-6, 8-13, 17-20, 22-27 (21.55)

De Rerum Natura

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Award winning comic Adam Rowe is likeable, relatable and very down to earth despite having appeared on various TV shows and being the host of the globally successful Have a Word Podcast.

Cowboy music plays to a sold out crowd before Adam walks onto the stage in a sports shirt. Naturally charismatic, he’s like the friendly bloke in the pub. We immediately feel relaxed and at home with him. In a strong opening to his hour, he tells us he resents having to come to Edinburgh for a month, because there’s hardly ever any locals in and he visits his fans on tour.

He is 31 years old and worried about his health. He is a passionate Liverpool FC fan but not so keen to participate in sports himself. Having hired personal trainers in the past, but never managing to stick with it. The material about exercise gets many laughs of recognition and his impassioned rants evoke raucous belly laughs.

He moves onto material about his relationships. Often misunderstood by his past romantic partners, he admits he is a pisshead and tells us hilarious stories about the time he had a girlfriend who doesn’t drink. I nearly rolled off my chair laughing when he was talking about orgasms. Then his relationship advice had us all in stitches. His raw honesty is wonderful and refreshing. Uniting the crowd in our common humanity with hysterical recollection of some of his worst hangovers and how he recovers.

There are some very vulnerable moments which create a deep connection with his audience. He talks about his upbringing and how his anxiety is getting worse, revealing participation in schadenfreude brings him comfort at times.

Accomplished storytelling keeps us in suspense as he builds up to revealing what it actually is that is wrong with him. Relatable, enjoyable and hilarious. This is a faultless show, directed by one of my favourite comedians Alfie Brown. From a reviewer’s perspective, comedically – there is nothing wrong with Adam Rowe.

Samantha Pressdee

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Opal Lounge
Aug 3-19 (18:15)

Bonum Vinum Laetificat Cor Hominis

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Situated in the basement bar of Opal Lounge, & tucked away in one of Laughing Horse’s more intimate rooms, we are presented with a collaboration of four comedians in their debut Edinburgh Fringe show, Gigl. Kicking off the proceedings, MC Abbie Cole gathered up the audience and quickly catapulted them into a frenzy of laughter! Introducing the four acts as they took to the stage, Abbie was taking no prisoners. Delivering a sea of cheeky, witty jokes, Abbie reeled us in like a struggling swordfish on a fishing hook.

As South East Londoner Scott Oswald glided onto the stage the energy level increased tenfold – it felt more like a High Energy Disco from the 1970s than a comedy sketch show. Hitting the audience hard and fast, he whent straight for the jugular, & no quarter was given. Scott’s ability to draw an analogy between one thing and another was genius, a sure crowd-pleaser.

Next up a beautifully Irish-accented Sadbh Peters scratched and itched her way towards the microphone stand. Like an Olympic starting gun going off, Sadbh was out the blocks firing on all cylinders. Scanning the audience like a Terminator, Sadbh delivered a concoction of humorous jokes that had the audience laughing like hyenas. If Sadbh thought life was going to be one big train ride then surely she was mistaken, for she is now a comedian ! Mischievous, sweet, funny, quirky, endearing and hilarious Sadbh delivered on all fronts inspiring affection within her comedy. Don’t get of that train just yet, as everything is gravy.

Staying on the right tracks in comedy is no easy task, but Brand Boy Matt Smith was certainly doing something right, unlike his mobile phone contract! Twisting and turning Matt invites the audience to take a journey through the world of folding cars, sexual orientation, origami and living in Japan. Matt’s accuracy, exactness and expression of detail was delivered with venom. Precise, direct and unwavering, the temperature in the room began to rise.

Last up was Ancika Mester. A proud Ozzy with more caffeine in her system than Starbucks sells in a year. Bouncing and giggling, Ancika thrusted the crowd into their latest frenzy with her story-telling comedy. Whipped cream, sweat and wild tongues, not to mention a particular type of vegetable created a cocktail of side-splitting laughs. Ancika left the stage with the audience eating out of her hand. It must have been the whipped cream.

GIGL is a comedy like no other at Edinburgh Fringe. The idea of four unique and talented Comedians joining forces to create such diversity within an hour’s comedy was genius. It’s courageous, funny and refreshing. If the room was hot the comedy was even hotter. Probably the best Free comedy show in town this Fringe, and if your wish is to visit unknown places, GIGL is for you !

Raymond Speedie

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theSpace @ Niddry St
Aug 12, 14-22 18:20)

Mirabile Dictu

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Crap Ballet? Hmm – well it’s definitely not crap, & it’s definitely not ballet, but it is an F3 tornado’s worth of quality clownerie which for me became the fastest journey, relativitively, I’ve ever experienc’d at a Fringe show.

So what of the actual carnage? Our troupe is a man/woman, taller/wee-er couple of Gaulier kids, who have monicker’d themselves ‘Chekov’s Gum.’ Their scene/costume/vibe changes are almost as rapid-fire as their damn funny dialogue, & of these two aspects of the show, the way they fill’d a helium ballon’s worth of oververboserie, accompanied by huge manic dollops of physical energy, was wonderful – a really well-written piece, as attested by the ever-rippling giggle state the audience was soon reduc’d to.

There are also a handful of dances, which somehow invoke the now-distant memory that this show is call’d ‘Crap Ballet,’ but we don’t really mind anymore ‘cos we’re fully immers’d in the melange of madness that Chekov’s Gum create. The only drawbacks as a spectacle is their use of the room, which is why I’ve had to mark them down a little. It’s a square stage, with seats on three sides, but some of the action is only meant to be really seen from the front. Some of the highlights were simply not visible.

All-in-all, this hybrid of clowning, sketch comedy & god knows what, is pure entertainment – you don’t need to to think, just plug in & enjoy the japeries before you. But like I said, make sure you sit in the most favorable seats.

Damo

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The Tron
Aug 2-13 & 15-27 (13:35)

Hinc Illae Lacimae

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Edinburgh Fringe Venues are famed for the breadth, scope, and erm, ‘depths’, of their variety. The performance space at The Tron, at Hunter Square is notable for being at least three floors below ground level, there is certainly no ‘Green Room’, intimidatingly low ceilinged, dark to a degree of spiritual isolation, and possessed of a highly unpredictable air conditioning unit with a particularly teeth grindingly shrill whine to accompany it’s sporadic and spontaneous performances. It’s played host to numerous comic luminaries such as Mick Ferry and Doug Stanhope, however none of these performers have had the distinction of incorporating every one of these aspects into their set, unlike the supremely versatile Ian Smith

Due to the lack of green room, Smith announces himself onto ‘stage’ from the back of the room, and, riffing on the uniquely curious situation (Where one is performing stand up in a setting more akin to The Edinburgh Dungeons) instantly draws laughs from the large Monday lunchtime audience and thus spends the night 2 or 3 minutes anonymously bantering from the gloom to expanding ripples of laughter in this comedy immersion tank. He’s got skills.

He’s also ‘stressed’. This is not the standard array of comedic irks, and the windmills he tilts at range from being bullied by puddings and punctuation, phonetics, Imodium, and over-sharing hotel staff. He also covers some objectively tough subject matter for a lunchtime crowd, with scatological references (literally) sprayed throughout the set. This is no issue though as also has charm in abundance, each one of the interlinking anecdotes, which hold together his flights of fancy, met with ‘awws’, ‘oohs’, and ‘oh no’s!’ Of as significant empathy and enthusiasm as the laughs and cheers which roll continuously like a Bach’s canon for, almost, the whole of the performance. The audience are invested. It’s, possibly, quite telling then that the only discernible moment in the hour where the audience was not entirely with him, was in response to the only ‘dick joke’ of the set. It wasn’t a bad dick joke, and certainly not as visceral as a ‘shit the bed’ bit which unfortunately conjured up mental images of a brown Slimer from Ghostbusters but produced hysterics and conciliatory groans in equally loud measure.

It is a larger (60+) crowd for a Monday lunchtime than I’ve seen for many 7PM Friday shows in this venue, and they were partisan and passionate in their commitment to their time with him, throughout. He was close to selling out at this early stage of the festival, and given his followings very clear love for his deeply human, constantly engaging, and occasional Spike Milligan-esque patter, you’ll be lucky if you manage to squeeze into one of his perfect lunchtime pick me ups.

Ewan Law

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The Mash House
Aug 11-13, 15-27 (15:45)

Morituri Te Salutamus

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Where does Patrick Susmilch’s debut Edinburgh Fringe show truly belong. Definitely not in the comedy section – which is a shame because its bill’d as such, & he is in fact a stand-up comedian from Minnesota & California. The reason I say that is, well, the spirit to which the British biorhythm connects to it’s native soil has never really made light of the passing of one’s friends & family – especially eight of them, & his pet bird, in a short span of years, which would leave most of us clinging to a bottle of xanex, watching constant boxsets & downing endless bottles of baileys. The British just don’t do nerfgun salutes.

“If anything I should have put more boobs in the presentation.”

Not Patrick, however, who has fashion’d quite a spectacle of 469 rapid-fire slides to accompany his tales of loves, lives & mournings – but knowing that at any given moment one of these nice people he is introducing us to via photographs & screenshots of texted conversations is just about to die, is all a tad too morbid for my humour wells. The experience is rather like watching a farmer walk thro a field of cute lambs, plucking them out one-by-one for the market. It’s very difficult to laugh at that kinda stuff.

Watching, however, this hard-hitting compendium calmy & compassionately, is a different story. There are some funny moments here & there, & Patrick is an excellent performer, but overall Texts from my Dead Friends is too curveball for comedy. Saying that, I do believe that for people dealing with their own grief, this is an excellent thalepeutic (portmanteau of the muse of comedy, Thalia, & therapy) production. Loss is hard, coping harder, but there are solid ways of empowerment to escape the sludgy soup of depression & emptiness that losing a loved one incurs.

“I’m tired of feeling like a ghost haunting my own life.”

By the end of Patrick’s sermonesque coping mechanism I think I figur’d out what was actually going on. One of his closest friends in life & on the circuit pass’d away, & I feel that he’s crafted this rather remakable series of epistolary laments as some kind of gesture to him. An interesting hour indeed, but going in expecting comedy is not something one should hold in anticipation when approaching this show.

Damo

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The Mash House
Aug 10-13 (23:15)

Vetant Leges Iovis

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A silly show exploring a serious topic, Big Zeus Energy blends idiocy with existential crisis. Masculinity is in peril and these fools are coming to the rescue!

Jungle music plays as three Gaulier trained clowns enter wearing blankets. The first of many of their self described ‘shit’ costumes. We are welcomed as brothers to The Edinburgh Men’s Circle. An immersive and interactive show, we have all been identified as boys needing to grow up. Christiaan Hendricksen makes a powerful patriarch with his grand stature and Andrew Turowski exudes sweetness and innocence in his role as a boy on a mission to become a man.

The three comedians self identify themselves as white, cisgendered and mostly heterosexual. The crisis around masculinity means they can’t express their emotions and have difficulty connecting with others. They are ready to do the inner work. Which involves camp dancing, a bonkers fight scene and mad props.

An archetypal journey of initiation with testosterone fueled fun reminiscent of Austin Powers. It’s very funny, delightfully charming and has a real spirit of the fringe vibe. Nominated for Best Debut show at the Leicester Comedy Festival, a lot of work has gone into this show but it is delivered in a way which seems effortless. Some of the routines could be tighter and the pace a bit quicker, but it is a joy to spend an hour immersed in the playful energy that they have conjured.

There is a strong narrative arc, carried by a light energy, which is skillfully sustained when Ollie West reveals his tortured soul in an emotional breakdown over a love lost. Building up to a fun and ridiculous ending. What does it mean to be a man? Go see this show to find out!

Samantha Pressdee

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The Mash House
Aug 10-13, 15-27 (18:25)

Homo Homini Lupus

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ot Much is probably the most misleading show title of The Fringe, so far. Ollie Horn gives a lot. A lot of laughs, a lot of anecdotes, a lot of energy, and a huge dollop of personal investment, in his commitment to the audience.

I caught Ollie last year in a double-hander with the fine Katheryn Henshaw, and whilst in that set he fired out X rated gags at a rapid fire pace, here his focus is on using his stage to craft an hour of tight and gripping storytelling. Ollie shows off the skills he’s woven together from 10yrs of stand up, words of wisdom from an unexpected famous patron, and the skills of the therapist he’s been seeing since his apocalyptic 2021.

Ostensibly this is a show about the last 10 years of Ollie’s stand up career and the worst gigs he’s experienced in that time. It is, in truth, nothing less than an hour of escapist perfection, wrapping pathos in genuine laughs, and inspiring bonhomie rather than pity or cynicism. We begin with a topically familiar story about a Fringe audience in the single digits, move on through astonishingly comedic ‘step-family’ grief, take a detour via an unexpected cameo from a famous joke thief, and end up on the other side of the world where Ollie plays a gig that nobody wants to happen and is at threat of being derailed by an ex girlfriend, a disgruntled prostitute, and a coma.

What’s truly remarkable about Ollie Horn’s set is that it could so easily dawdle into the territory of countless mawkish ‘Fringe Favourites’ of the last 5 years. Selling grief to pay off the Promoters. Instead, the journey we’re taken on of alcoholic relatives, death, paragliding as robbery, and fist fights with sex workers, provides us with, as Ollie himself puts it ‘Intellectual Homeostasis. That space of mind to be found in running, being in the outdoors, being gripped by Succession, or dancing in a dark club. Absolute lack of concern. He also manages the first original ‘BBC light entertainment’ joke I’ve heard in about 5 years, no mean feat.

Clearly Ollie Horn loves stand-up, despite it often not loving him. In this hour however they are very much a match made in heaven.

Ewan Law

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Just the Tonic at The Caves
Aug 10-13, 15-27 (18:00)

Finis Coronat Opus

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Sachin Kumarendran in no leathery pilot of long worn-out comedy themes & memes, but quite a fresh-faced, & freshly polish’d, up & coming talent. British-Asian via the Sri Lankan route, Sachin Kumarendran hardly ever touches upon this fibre of his being, except for the fact that he’d chosen not to ‘cash in,’ so to speak, on creating a British Asian comedy think-tank in order to win a sluice-worth of gushing reviews from a reviewing diaspora afraid to say anything that might even be remotely consider’d as racially indiscreet. So nice one, Sachin, let’s see what your comedy can do for itself.

‘Deceit‘ is essentially the product of what I can imagine was a drunken night in which Sachin wrote down a list of topics that could offend, or at least shock, people – fleshlights, ketamine, mass shooters kinda vibes -, around which he built otter dams of comedy earth to secure the flow of the show. Every now & again he also tosses into the mix a pondering, pesterous lovetale, & I’m still not sure if his girlfriend was real or not.

Once the list has reach’d its natural denouement, Sachin bolts on a wonderful power-pointed section, brim-bursting with applicatory efforts to get on various TV shows in recent years, alongside his quest for the perfect Edinburgh flyer quote. Don’t wanna give too much away, but this section is especially watchable stuff, & at a time when most comedians are flagging, Sachin is just hitting his stride.

As I came to the end of his hour of neoclassical ‘establish, reinforce, surprise‘ comedy, it suddenly occur’d to me, like a finger of rosy-finger’d dawn, that in my position as his reviewer I had to, y’know, mark him. Now then, I’d set my yardstick at the weekend, giving Rob Auton three stars, for example, but my gut instinct was my hour with Sachin was better, but why? I soon found the answer, he’s just really damn like-able, & it’s a joyous treat to be entertain’d by him. I mean, I can’t think of any other comedian better suited for a 6PM slot, & the lad’s only 28 years-old, & I’m sure he’ll be night-crawling higher up the echelons as the Fringes tick by.

Damo