FESTIVAL COMEDY | Reviews
DOUG ANTHONY ALL STARS Hilariously dark return for the Aussie sickmeisters ●●●●●
You have to commend the Doug Anthony All Stars for having the tenacity to make a very long-awaited Edinburgh return. Having been a strong part of the late 80s / early 90s Fringe furniture, their original lineup has altered out of much recognition: whipping-boy guitarist Richard Fidler now has a proper job at ABC Radio in Australia while Tim Ferguson has multiple sclerosis and is in a wheelchair.
But rather than rest on those well-earned laurels for their rude songs and ruder chat, the trio is back (with new member Paul Livingston delivering the fancy fretwork), with full-throated bad- mouthing completely intact. If anything, their new situation has facilitated a fresh impetus, with some exceedingly dark humour wielded largely by Paul McDermott. Livingston gets it in the neck for having the temerity to be in his sixties and still alive while Ferguson is afforded no leeway by his old pal; though in fairness, he is equally fine with mining gags about his own condition.
So, did the profanity match the quality of their previous era? Well, hell yes. Numbers about Ebola (to the tune of The Kinks’ ‘Lola’) and ISIS (using ‘YMCA’ as its melodic model) are a treat for those wondering whether they would have bothered to write new material, while their gore-drenched back-catalogue is plumbed for the iconic ‘I Fuck Dogs’. Even their sober version of the 1950s Irish folk song, ‘The Auld Triangle’, finds new ways to mock Ferguson as he fails hilariously in his percussive duties on the titular instrument.
In an era when Fringe comebacks largely fall horrendously flat, DAAS can take pride in having produced a return with as much as life in it as the offerings from their halcyon days. Hats off to the Dougs for making a wholly unsentimental return to the Fringe fray. (Brian Donaldson) ■ Pleasance Courtyard, 556 6550, until 14 Aug, 10pm, £15 (£14).
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STEVE BUGEJA: UNPRONOUNCEABLE A rapid-fire assault on the brain but too rambling to make it pay ●●●●●
The slightly hopeless, awkward dude looking for love bit has been done to death over the years, so it’s a relief when Steve Bugeja proclaims: ‘this is not a love story. This show is a logic story.’ After meeting someone at last year’s Fringe, Bugeja has to decide whether to leave it as a holiday romance or do the long-distance thing while she goes travelling. It’s a good premise: heart vs head and reason vs intuition. Bugeja explores three primal instincts (lust, tribalism and fight-or-flight) but after an initially sharp intro, Unpronounceable begins to feel like a lecture.
There are some strong moments here, odd asides
and throwaway comments that are funnier than the main stories and a few near-the-knuckle jokes that others might shy from: he almost cajoles the audience into admitting inherent racism. Almost. It’s hard not to like Bugeja, affected awkwardness
aside, and the lines that are good are really good. A bit of whittling and streamlining would make everything less brain-scrambling. (Kirstyn Smith) ■ Just the Tonic at the Tron, 0330 220 1212, until 28 Aug (not 15), 5pm, £5–£7 or Pay What You Want.
44 THE LIST FESTIVAL 11–18 Aug 2016
MARK DOLAN: LIFE HACKS A weak hour about taking control ●●●●● GEOFF NORCOTT: CONSWERVATIVE Possibly the Fringe comedy set's only openly Tory voter makes his case with skill and wit ●●●●●
Mark Dolan may have been the presenter of Channel 4’s noughties bravado show, Balls of Steel, but his latest Fringe offering possesses neither of those elements. A perfectly amiable host, the Edinburgh- educated chap certainly roams his stage as though he means business. But before long it becomes worryingly clear that his material in Life Hacks has neither cohesion nor indeed much of a point as he attempts to throw a show together about taking control.
His flipchart of advice contains one page that says ‘don’t be so nice’ while his final one says ‘be nice’. This rather shoddy approach smacks not so such of ‘written on the train up’ as ‘knocked out that afternoon’. His insights about Brexit, Chilcot or the monarchy lack insight and wit, while the recent news (to him, at least) of the bizarreness of Uber’s rating system throws up nothing much of comedic note.
Perhaps a script editor might have worked on those earlier inconsistencies and also had a word about making cracks about the weak physical strength of vegans and new parents as though the idea had just been invented. Sadly, Mark Dolan’s hour has little life but a whole lot of hack material. (Brian Donaldson) ■ Gilded Balloon Teviot, 622 6552, until 29 Aug (not 15), 8pm, £10.
Geoff Norcott is a Conservative voter and wants to tell you why. It’s not certain he succeeds in this mission, but he has lots of fun trying, using anecdotes from his life on a slightly iffy estate, a career in teaching and in a social security office, his dad’s disability and his mum’s epic Trotter-family dodginess. While you may disagree with just about everything
he says, this is a funny, sharp and well-polished show. Norcott delivers his material with confidence, style and a self-knowledge that undercuts the audience’s objections so well that in his ‘heckling amnesty’ section, the only question offered was factual. How often are other stand-ups asked to be honest, let alone offer a section to do so? And, as he pointed out after trying to extemporise
a false equivalence between social spending on mobility scooters to defence spending on tanks: ‘I’m a Tory, we make things up. It’s fine now.’ There is more than plenty in his act to take issue with, but the structure of Conswervative is so sound that even an inhaled hiss of disbelief late in the hour is turned into a big laugh. (Craig Naples) ■ Underbelly Med Quad, 0844 545 8252, until 28 Aug (not 15), 7.10pm, £10–£11 (£9–£10).