But he’s got some great stories such as how he ended up standing in front of Ricky Martin

But he’s got some great stories, such as how he ended up standing in front of Ricky Martin in a long, leather coat brandishing a kitchen knife. You had to be there.Venue 33 (0131-556 6550) to 27 Aug, 20.20 (21.20). There’s a man called Harry and a man called Chris. Harry, dressed in an ill-fitting suit, is a hyperactive and loquacious fellow; his partner is silent, moody and more than a little reluctant to take part

There’s a man called Harry and a man called Chris. Harry, dressed in an ill-fitting suit, is a hyperactive and loquacious fellow; his partner is silent, moody and more than a little reluctant to take part.

Audience participation is the deal here, and the running gag, to question the sexuality of the straight men present. One skit involves getting two lads to wedge a coin in their behinds and drop it in a cup on the floor. Later, they’re asked to identify the titles of a series of gay porn mags ­ do they really exist or not?
Inevitably, our hosts can’t sustain the joke. There are lots of cheap sexual puns, some of which are more likely to make you gag than giggle. Matters get a little silly as Harry starts twisting a pair of balloons into lewd shapes ­ it feels like we’ve gone back two decades and landed on the set of Crackerjack, the X-rated version. Their last segment sees them taking all of us out on to the street, lining us up and getting us to hurl uncooked sausages as far as we can. It’s not the funniest hour I’ve spent at the festival so far, but it rates as the most bizarre..

Mainly known as writers for such omnipresent celebs as Ant and Dec, James Bachman, sometimes described as a stout Alan Davies, and Mark Evans, a young man with an uncanny vocal resemblance to Ian Hislop, make their Edinburgh debut as performers with this amiable two-hander. Mainly known as writers for such omnipresent celebs as Ant and Dec, James Bachman, sometimes described as a stout Alan Davies, and Mark Evans, a young man with an uncanny vocal resemblance to Ian Hislop, make their Edinburgh debut as performers with this amiable two-hander.
Set in and around the flat where the pair of them are dying slowly of boredom, it boasts a nuclear explosion, some very dodgy Russian accents and a quite astonish- ing prop machine-gun that is crafted from a set of household cutlery and some sticky tape. The show is little more than an extended version of “Chums”, the Friends spoof familiar to watchers of Saturday morning television This is no bad thing, and the show moves along effortlessly. But the real high spot is their supposed “contractual obligation”, a trailer for an imaginary junkie psychodrama ostensibly playing in the same venue. Their build-up ­ “She was a rich girl who’d lost everything, he was a middle-class, Rada-trained actor struggling with a Scouse accent…

this hard-hitting work, written by a 57-year-old barrister…” ­ is so painfully accurate that you suspect that sarcasm is their true forte Venue 3 (0130-226 2428) to 27 Aug, 17.45 (18.45). Not content with one sold-out fringe production at the Traverse, the theatre company Frantic Assembly filled up more seats across town on Wednesday with two performances of another of their latest projects, Underworld. Not content with one sold-out fringe production at the Traverse, the theatre company Frantic Assembly filled up more seats across town on Wednesday with two performances of another of their latest projects, Underworld. Taking its cue from the horror film genre, Underworld uses music, lighting and a body in a bath to create an atmosphere of extreme unease as it explores the relationships between the cast of four women and the nature of hysteria. It is familiar stuff: four girls are staying on their own in an isolated farmhouse The power fails; the phone cuts out; the car breaks down No horror device is left idling.

It starts to get dark, the ouija board comes out and things go bump. As the tension mounts, the strain starts to show in the girls’ interaction. We shift uncomfortably in our seats, maybe watch through our fingers This is spooky stuff. Unfortunately, the d?ument outrageously trots out even more horror clich? to the extent that any tension that was previously created dissipates almost immediately; the suggested is often far more terrifying than the literal. Nevertheless, the performance is still horribly exhilarating.. It sounded alluring ­ “Hitchcock crossed with Wilde” ­ but this Rope homage adds little to the original: two young men murder an acquaintance before inviting his parents, friends and girlfriend to dinner (in this case, a murder-mystery dinner), to dine off the victim, Titus Andronicus style. The surreal aspect of the original is retained, but magnified until it loses meaning and the characters are left floundering.