Lizzie Bates: Reprobates, The Pleasance, Edinburgh Fringe 2014

By Laura King

I am sure I am not the first to compare Lizzie Bates to a cross between Joyce Grenfell and Catherine Tate. 

The show opened with a bossy air raid shelter warden in Joyce Grenfell tradition ushering us into the Bunker 2 venue, which made for a convincing facsimile of an air raid shelter, telling random members of the audience off for imagined comic misdemeanors, amid some choice wartime references to add to the humour. 

Another sketch featured Lizzie as the overweening mother of a young boxer without a clue (a surprisingly good member of the audience) who donned boxing

gloves and subsequently turned out to be so useless that his "mother" had to improvise as an "under-12" to take over. 

The Swiss finishing school marm with an unlikely penchant for fast food who takes on her first male student (another surprisingly game young man in the audience) was nicely observed. 

Pathos and humour vied in the character of the housewife who had taken up residence in her garden owing to alcoholism, but in complete denial about it, as she inveigles her married elderly neighbour to join her in a tipple in her empty paddling pool, getting him into trouble with his wife. Echoes of Alan Bennett, I thought.

An inappropriate doctor's receptionist who makes the patients play games in order to be admitted to the doctor was also very funny.

My favourite character was the unstable high-maintenence office girl who takes over the leaving do of "John", giving her unrequited love for her middle-aged boss (the reason, it turns out, he's leaving) one last shot. 

My partner duly played along until confronted by one last surprise shock tactic.

Sketches were interspersed with manic dancing to bump and grind music.

Lizzie Bates has already been a Bafta Rocliffe comedy writer in 2013 and featured on Radio 4.

I am in no doubt we will be hearing a lot more of her. Five stars for comic acting skills, three for material from this reviewer.

Edinburgh Medical Detectives, at the Royal College of Physicians, Edinburgh Fringe 2014

By Laura King

It is always a must for this Fringe reviewer to fit in a few genuinely Scottish gigs and events each visit and as a big Sherlock Holmes (and thus Dr Joseph Bell) fan, Edinburgh Medical Detectives caught my eye.

In the spectacular setting of the Great Hall in the Royal College Of Physicians, the illustrious scientist and raconteur Professor David Purdie joined forces with College Librarian Iain Milne to offer a riveting and entertaining slice of archive history.

You might not think this belongs on a predominantly comedy site. However, seen through the lens of the past, the perils of finding enough legitimate bodies for the dissection classes and the lengths gone to to protect the dead, the feuds between leading medics and the almost-rejection of chloroform as a useful substance to enable painless surgery owing to snobbery and medical rivalry have a surprising capacity to entertain.

Then there was the revelation of regicide in the middle of Edinburgh and how this came to be uncovered centuries before forensic medicine had even been thought of, or even the pioneering "medical police".

We were also exposed to the dark side of the age of enlightenment, where crime might have a blind eye turned if it led to medical breakthrough.

Edinburgh's medical pioneers were not merely pioneers of Edinburgh, but the world. This was the exciting place young Arthur Conan Doyle found himself in to undertake his medical training. And while he decided that being a doctor was not for him, he still derived the lifelong inspiration that we all came to know and love as Sherlock Holmes from the city.

The dark humour will remain with me for a long time to come. Superb edu-tainment! 

*****

Mark Nelson - Please Think Responsibly, The Gilded Balloon, Edinburgh Fringe 2014

By Laura King

I was attracted by the title which had led me to expect a sharp-suited Scottish political comedian.

I found myself somewhat disappointed when a scruffy figure in jeans and polo shirt shambled onto the stage. Ah well, at least he was Scottish, I thought.

As he later revealed, he is a relatively recent father, which explained the jaded look. He was the third male comedian we'd seen who spent at least half their act extolling the joys (and otherwise) of fatherhood employing TMI - Too Much Information.

Good poster boys for contraception, one and all.  And all of them inserted some paedophilia jokes and allusions, rather unwisely, presumably testing to see if it was now laughing material again, post-Savile. It does not seem to be.

However, I enjoyed the Scottish material, the referendum routine, the row with his wife about Navaho white paint and what he actually put on the walls.

He did paint a depressing picture of manhood though: no emotions, terrible sex and allegedly a boring b***ard who doesn't understand what his wife sees in him.

Nor did I by the end of the show, well-delivered as it was. I was just left hoping it was all an act.

He is right about writing new shows though. Everyone expects from the comedian what they would be horrified by if a pilot suddenly announced over the intercom; "I'm just going to experiment with some new stuff here".

***

Andrew O'Neill - Mindspiders, Whistlebinkies, Edinburgh Fringe 2014

By Laura King

You can't go wrong with a failed goth gone wrong (he's a cheerful chappy!)

Resplendent in black frock and red lippy, renaissance locks flowing, Andrew delivered an hour of sheer silliness interspersed with amusing voiceovers for unlikely products to a mic in the corner.

Comedians have indeed to diversify to earn a crust these days.

Every so often he would return to the theme of "Mindspiders" - otherwise known as headworms, those tunes we all get stuck in our heads - and try to insert some real stinkers into ours.

But mainly it was jokes and puns, often surreal, the whole way though.

It is refreshing this rising TV and radio comedy star is still humble enough to do free shows. The venue was packed to capacity and deservedly so.

Andrew, we love you!

*****

 

Rob Rouse, Through The Looking Ass, The Stand, Edinburgh Fringe 2014

By Joe Wilson

It is always hard to review comedians who you have known for a long time, although the temptation to see how they are getting on is nonetheless a great one.

I recall Rob Rouse when he was 23 or 24 - a great bundle of joy, fun and energy - who could take any stage by storm and lift any roof. His solo act I loved and when he did his first Edinburgh Fringe show with Big & Daft, an imaginative trio comprising Rob, another stand-up and an actor, it was sublimely funny, sheer brilliance.

The queue for Rob's latest show stretched right down the street outside one of The Stand's satellite venues. I was told it was a 180-seater and there must have been 160 of us.

Eventually, the show went up half and hour late. When the punters were in, 15 minutes behind schedule, the management decided to allow them all the chance to order a drink at the bar before Rob was given the green light.

When Rob appeared, he looked very different from how I remembered him. I believe the last time we met was at a gig in Lewes, Sussex, some 10 years ago. 

Of course the years take their toll but Rob looked haggard and careworn.

For a moment, I thought, "Is it the same guy?" The grinning, slightly chubby-faced youth I had known was gone. He looked Paul McCartney fresh.

What followed was an hour of so of what you might call "Dad Comedy" of the most scatalogical type. It was cringe-worthy and involuntarily funny in equal measure.

Naturally, people have children all the time. If they did not, we simply would not be here.

However, there is a generation of male stand-ups who seem to feel they have discovered childbirth and all that comes with it.

It is their duty to tell the rest of us about it. Every unpleasant aspect of their experience is subjected to comedic exploration. No turd is left unturned.

As well as being a very pleasant bloke, Rob Rouse is a gifted physical comedian. It is very hard not to laugh when he is full flow.

So, I was kind of laughing at his performance, while oxymoronically, not enjoying the show much at all.

I was also puzzled. When I first knew Rob, my kids were about the same age as his are now. But I do not remember half the things he talked about. Maybe he is unlucky or worries more than I did. Perhaps he has given the raw material the cartoon characterisation treatment, grossly exaggerating for comic effect.

Whatever the truth, he desperately needed to buy a lock for his bathroom door. I would even show him out to fit it.

Worse still, Rob seemed to be compulsively obsessed with poo and wee. Not just his children's but his wife's as well. The Shewee routine was not credible to my mind - a pee too far. I wondered whether his missus enjoyed this show.

It was such as shame. Rob is a great guy and an incredibly funny and eloquent man. What he had written here was quite funny but was it beautiful? Nein!

There was still some great use of language - "undercrackers", "banjaxed", "in like Flynn" and so on - but I believe he could create a solo show so much more funny and meaningful that this one. I woke up at 4am that night thinking about it. A weirdly disturbing experience.

It'd been around midnight when Rob closed his set. I felt as tired as he did.

As I had headed for the door, Rob kindly intercepted me and asked how I was. We exchanged pleasantries and he suggested I call him on his mobile so we could have a cuppa.

Somehow, I could not bring myself to say I had lost his number, along with a great deal more, when I got divorced. Life, eh?

A *** show by a ***** comedian!

Candy Gigi - I'm Not Lonely, The Hive, Edinburgh Fringe 2014

By Laura King

Candy Gigi is a terrifying young woman who pursues young men in a stained wedding dress, and is bent on getting married to someone, anyone, no matter that she brushes her teeth with a loo brush, displaying a set of choppers that a young Yootha Joyce would have been proud of.

She also plays piano with a bunch of carrots, dances with a pig face and a large inflatable phallus, sings opera and has a strange idea of how to apply lipstick.

It was a tour de force of fearless female physical comedy seldom seen in a woman, but this reviewer was left wondering where Ms Gigi goes from here.

For all its manic energy and her undoubted talents, it is something of a one-trick pony as a show and only half an hour long. It is also dangerously reliant on a willing male victim who could easily turn on Ms Gigi or refuse to play along.

The show did not really hang together or make enough sense.

Even for a madwoman, it still needed some context. Craziness alone was not enough to carry it.

**** for raw talent but just ** for material.

The Five Worst Things I Ever Did: Al Donegan, Just the Tonic at the Caves, Edinburgh Fringe 2014

By Laura King

Al Donegan wanted to share the five worst things he ever did, partly as a reason to skirt around - or perhaps explain - the sixth worst thing he ever did, lose the girl who was willing to marry him despite his gambling addiction and myriad other flaws.

In excruciating detail and sparing himself nothing, Al shared the five worst things he ever did as he told us he wanted to be a BETTER man.

He wanted to know for sure whether he was a liar and a "dick" or not, as branded by the woman he loved in the answerphone message that both dumps him and opens his show.

But his ex was only one of the many losses in his life.

Al explored whether he was simply a man being a man and following his instincts, an immature jerk who should grow up and take more responsibility.

Or whether his mother was right (a mum who would probably find an excuse if he were an axe murderer) when she reassured him that "maybe certain things just weren't meant to be".

This should not be a funny show but it was howling, thought-provoking and poignant by turns as Al slowly turned from a two-dimensional human into a three dimensional one before our eyes, even if he had not necessarily fixed himself by the end of the show.

I am sure his ex (if she knew about it) could not help but be slightly flattered by what was in essence a show-long apology to her, minus excuses.

But if there was one thing Al has perfected, it was the art of being a consummate loser.

This show worked on every level.

*****

Ursula Burns - Get Divorced and Join the Circus, The Stand, Edinburgh Fringe 2014

By Laura King

She has the Celtic sprite look of a forest dweller, fresh from her tree trunk hollow house, or perhaps a wild-eyed gipsy Queen in her tumbling gold-trim dress as she plucks the barren beauty of doomed love in a cold spell from her harp. 

Romantic ruminations were rudely interrupted by a broad Belfast accent gleefully informing us we'd been tricked into attending a harp recital and urging her techie to "lock the door". Ursula was from the Falls Road.

  

There followed a host of comedy harp songs starting with one bemoaning the difficulties of playing heavy metal on the harp, and then bewailing her fate as a reluctant harpist, interspersed with tantalising titbits about growing up in the Falls Road, an allusion to getting divorced and running away to the circus (several times). However we were given no cogent narrative as Ursula jumped from one subject to another.

An environmental rant about fracking did not really sit well in the middle of the show following a more inventive environmental update on the fate of Innisfree since Yeats' famed poem, which would have sufficed. Luckily, this section was followed by the song of surveillance, which was brilliant. 

I enjoyed the jokes about the dangers of confusing weddings with funerals when you suffer from mild dyslexia and indeed all the stuff about growing up in Northern Ireland, not least since I also grew up in Northern Ireland and acknowledge the comedy gold of the place.

On the whole I enjoyed the show, but was left with the decided feeling that it would have benefited from more structure, and perhaps more rehearsal, as Ursula forgot her material several times, despite her talent for improv.

Here was a lady with looks, talent and a comedy persona and accent many comedians would give their right arm for. Not only that but she'd evidently lived an amazing life. All the ingredients were there for a winning show, but somehow the recipe was lacking.

Nevertheless, Ursula is a complete one-off, so do go and see her if you get the chance.

Ursula, if you read this, please weave more of your extraordinary life into the show. There is a lot more you could do with it.

***** for talent and *** for material.

Sameena Zehra: Homicidal Pacifist, The Stand, Edinburgh Festival 2014

By Ollie Wilson

The concept of this show was that Sameena Zehra, an Indian comedian, was embarking on a cull of the human race. Everyone would have to fill out a questionnaire and if they did not meet her exacting standards or mend their ways, they would be executed.

The performance started 10 minutes late which was pretty inexcusable for a show with an audience of six.

The technician also left the room and, so later, there was no closing music. Not very professional.

Semeena was a middle-aged woman with a crew cut and a lot of hatred in her.

She talked 19 to the dozen, spewing out countless comedic ideas. Semeena would have been better off developing the stronger themes and culling the rest.

Certainly, she was a confident performer - not a new act - but much of her material was too weak for a full-length show.

Semeena said she hated religion but loved Archbishop Desmond Tutu: "If I ever meet him, I'll lick his face."

This is not normal. Incidentally, I have met Archbishop Tutu and felt no desire to lick his face.

Semeena ranted on about anti-frown and "anal bleaching" and declared: "I'm not Helen of f***ing Troy! I'm a magnet for weirdos!"

Perhaps it takes one to know one.

Although quite engaging and affable at times, she appears flush with bile and spleen, seeking fault in everything and everyone and planning retribution in her hypothetical random holocaust.

Semeena displayed a fabulous memory for her material but, sadly, this show did not work at all well.

As for the baby panda, whose contribution I looked forward to, he was never explained.

**

The Weegies Have Pokled Edinburgh's Pandas, Space Cabaret, Edinburgh Fringe 2014

By Ollie Wilson

This was not stand-up but a one-man comedy play written and performed by Robin Cairns. And very funny and entertaining it was too.

Robin played Morningside Malcolm and at least five related characters including a gangster, a simpleton and their wives who all get involved in the mysterious disappearance - in other words, theft - of the Edinburgh pandas, and their subsequent remarkable proliferation.

They bred like there's no tomorrow.

It was a hilarious, convoluted plot, delivered at great speed and with admirable skill by Robin, a gifted actor and performance poet.

For those from south of the border, some of the Glaswegian and Edinburgh references were lost but this did not much diminish the joy of watching this outstanding show.

*****

Worst Show On The Fringe, featuring Prince Abdi, Liam Withnail and Alfie Moore, George Next Door, Edinburgh Fringe 2014

By Joe Wilson

The apparent concept of this show is to put on comedians whose Edinburgh Fringe shows have bombed and received just one star in a review. I supposed this was to give them a second chance or let a masochistic audience enjoy the full horror of their terrible comedy.

At the same time, the Fringe programme named Miranda Hart (who, incidentally, I once gave three stars), Russell Howard and Tim Minchin as examples of former one-star performers who had gone on to greatness, dangling the tantalising bait that the show might be surprisingly good.

It was certainly absolutely packed. Promoter/MC Nigel Lowell was carrying in extra chairs, some of which would have a stage view!

The room looked just right for a show of one-stars. The garish yellow paintwork was fading in parts, the black backdrop was affixed to the wall by translucent sticky tape. It looked like one of the worst comedy clubs.

When the show eventually started, compere Nigel did not disappoint.

He kicked off with a terrible undertaker/bicycle gag - poor by anyone's standards - and embarked on some embarrassing audience interaction, quickly mentioning the war to the Germans in the front row and insulting my abundant hair (the baldy coot!)

Nigel Lowell definitely has one-star potential.

The turns he introduced were a totally different cup of tea.

Prince Abdi is an experience and talented professional comedian who has appeared on television and played the Comedy Store and Jongleurs during his career.

I see him as a laid-back comedy natural - the Somalian Micky Flanagan.

The audience absolutely loved his sharp material, great comic timing and smiley nature. I'd give him: ***** - five stars - for his performance.

Liam Withnail had some great material, particularly his square sausage routine and train announcer cigarette packet wrapper performance.

Hilarious. I award him **** (four stars).

Alfie Moore, a former police sergeant from Scunthorpe, has also already made a name for himself, with a show BBC Radio Four show.

He was trying out new material, with script in hand, which is never a good sign for a stand-up.

However, his delivery and timing were excellent and he had some very funny lines such as: "There's no excuse for a shallow grave - just laziness."

Alfie ended with well-practised material about finding the head from a decapitated body beside a canal. It was tearfully funny. So, overall, I give him **** (four stars).

As a whole, there was no way this show was anywhere near the worst on the Fringe.

****

Spencer Brown, The Free Sisters, Edinburgh Fringe 2014

By Joe Wilson

Back in the day, Spencer Brown was a wondrously bright-eyed, surreal comedian. He is still abuzz with energy but his stand-up appears to have gone down a more mainstream road than before.

Good gags and laughter were still there in abundance. I liked his analysis of Free Fringe-goers as people who "value their time less than their money".

His dinner facts and rogue shopper routines and phoning gran song were strong.

However, his young daughter material left some of the audience cold and some of his sexual material was more distasteful than funny. It did not suit him.

Spencer is a great guy and, I believe, has bags of talent. Alas, this show was not the best he could have created for the Edinburgh Fringe.

***

Paul Ricketts' West End Story, The Mash House, Edinburgh Fringe 2014

By Ollie Wilson

London man about town Paul Ricketts has been a figure on the Soho scene for a long time - a denizen of the comedy and drinking clubs, late-night bars and other places of iniquity.

Hearing his yarns of 1990s Soho brought the memories flooding back: the lost nights in the Spanish Bar, the Colony Room, Gerry's and shebeens I have half-forgotten, soaking up the rich tapestry of human life and, indeed, being part of it.

Bedford-born Paul made the excellent point that when you move to London no one knows who you are - or were - and, so, incomers can, and often do, "recreate" themselves.

His retelling of his new-found existence as a Soho drinks cadger - with no more than a fiver in his pocket to try to secure a good time with an ingenious array of "birthday blags" - was hilarious.

With an attractive sidekick joining the cause, they embarked on a free birthday binge, regularly gulling men of a certain age into believing it was their birthdays (one or other or both of them posing as half-twins!) - to quaff for free.

Paul has grown as a comedian since those times.

He displayed poise and presence in this show - and I was surprised at the slickness with which he delivered his material. Even a pesky, drunken Glaswegian woman heckler did not throw him off his stride.

His jokes about John Major, David Cameron and Jesus, and the Four States of Cockney were superb. The Tony Blair payoff to his abortive orgy story was an absolute belter.

Perhaps, all comedians have one great show in them. This is certainly Paul Ricketts'.

*****