Scotland

An honest Edinburgh Fringe Festival review

With nearly twelve thousand comedy performances on offer at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe, Justin Jamieson finds it hard to wipe the smile off his face.

There’s something about Scotland that has always made me smile.

Maybe it’s to do with my heritage, or the memories of my father’s Billy Connolly cassettes and the ribald language I struggled to understand (and hear) over the roars of my dad’s laughter. Whatever it is, as we drive the scenic A68 route through the rolling Scottish countryside into Edinburgh, I’m already smiling from ear to ear at the thought of reviewing the Fringe Festival.

For a comedy junkie like myself, the Edinburgh Festival Fringe (or the Fringe) is somewhat of a holy pilgrimage. From Peter Cook, Dudley Moore and Rowan Atkinson to Hugh Laurie, Arj Barker and Jim Jeffries, the Fringe is a breeding ground for comedians from all over the world. It initially began as an alternative to the first Edinburgh International Festival back in 1947, when a few uninvited theatre groups put on more risqué shows for the existing crowds. This rebellious streak is still prevalent among the many performances today. The Fringe is where a comedian can really let loose. In fact, there are still no rules for who can perform. There is no jury to appease and performers need no invitation, allowing for more cutting-edge shows.

The epicentre of the Fringe is Edinburgh’s Royal Mile: a cobblestone street winding down from the imposing Edinburgh Castle. With only limited space on the street, buildings were constructed storey upon storey, which produced some of the first high-rises in Europe. It is said that the sewage issues this created gave rise to the term ‘shit-faced’, as those who didn’t get home by the 10pm curfew often found themselves covered in excrement as the occupants emptied their sewage out the windows and onto the street and wandering drunks below. For four weeks every August the Fringe buzzes night and day. You’ll find street performances, performers spruiking their shows and loads of wide-eyed travellers. Old Scottish pubs and tourist shops fight for space lining the Mile. It’s easy to get lost as you wander off amongst the many small closes (alleyways) that crisscross it. When the Fringe is on each one will inevitably lead to a show of some sort.

The beauty of such a massive festival is the abundance of free performances throughout the day. You could comfortably spend a week just attending free shows. In 2010, Imran Yusaf’s An Audience with Imran Yusaf was nominated for the Foster’s (previously IF and Perrier) Award – the first time a free performance has been put forward for this prestigious honour. It’s a great example of the quality on offer, and proof that even though there is no entrance fee the laughs are still plentiful.

We catch an Australian comic’s show in the famous Gilded Balloon: a sprawling gothic building surrounded by makeshift bars, food stalls and ticket stands. The Gilded Balloon is an institution at the Fringe and is renowned for its late-night/early morning shows where Fringe comedians drop in to ‘joust’ with the rambunctious crowds. Legend has it, Australian comic Anthony Morgan once glassed himself on stage to grab the attention of the heckling mob.

There’s such a party surrounding the venue it is not surprising that by midnight those still up for some comedy are not exactly focused. Luckily for the comic we saw he doesn’t need to glass himself tonight, as the laughs flow regularly. On a roll, we head into one of the late-night clubs to catch some free comedy from a motley bunch of comedians trying their luck at a night called ‘Shaggers’. A tall Australian struggles with the crowd and disappears quickly after his set. An American girl goes the same way. The night is saved by a local comic whose bawdy description of lovemaking gets us laughing once again.

It has been a big day of comedy and as we walk back to our hotel my cheeks are literally stiff from laughing. It has only been 24 hours and we’ve already indulged in copious amounts of comedy. I calculate, drunkenly, that with another 12,000 performances before the Fringe closes, I might not be sleeping for the remaining three days. It is nearly 3am and Edinburgh’s medieval streets are still teeming with revellers under the dim streetlights. Our hotel is beckoning, but so is a local pub. I duck in for a ‘nightcap’. A pint of Scotland’s finest hits the spot and I order another.

At this rate the free comedy I’m planning to see for breakfast may have to be delayed. Staggering up the Royal Mile I look up at the 16th-century high rises towering over me and I’m thankful for the advances in plumbing technology.

THE BEST EDINBURGH FRINGE FESTIVAL JOKES

1. I tried to steal spaghetti from the shop, but the female guard saw me and I couldn't get pasta.
2. I keep randomly shouting out 'broccoli' and 'cauliflower' - I think I might have florets.
3. Working at the Jobcentre has to be a tense job - knowing that if you get fired, you still have to come in the next day.
4. I'm not a fan of the new pound coin, but then again, I hate all change.
5. My dad suggested I register for a donor card, he is a man after my own heart.

A FESTIVAL REGULAR'S TOP TIPS FOR ENJOYING THE FRINGE.

A. Go to a late-night comedy show. There is nothing like seeing drunk punters battle against (possibly drunker) stand-up comedians at 1am. You’ll see brilliant comedy, wonderful hecklers and frontal nudity for the price of a single ticket.

B. If you’re afraid of paper cuts the Fringe isn’t the place for you. Spend an hour taking flyers and reward whoever does the best job of selling their show with your attendance. The show may be shit, but think of how impressive the comedian’s salesmanship was when he looked you in the eye and sold you this steaming lump of turd.

C. Go to a silent disco. Especially if you hate typical nightclub conversations like: ‘What do you do for a living?’ ‘I’ve never celebrated Thanksgiving!’ At a silent disco to hear the DJs you wear headphones and to talk to someone you just take them off. Best of all, ignoring people is very easy.

D. Learn the colloquialisms. At home knowing Scottish slang will be as useful as speaking Elfish, but it will make the locals think you’re “pure fookin’ barry” (whatever that means).