Nick and I faced a choice this year: week in a caravan with kids and dogs or three day just the two of us trip to the Edinburgh Fringe. We took a stand against middle age and with the kids almost grown up (Nina leaves for Uni in a month and H’s GCSE results are out next week) we decided to test our relationship. I had a fantastic time there with my baby brother last year, and took advantage of Nick’s good natured fringe virginity to go with him in spite of our longstanding observation that we have nothing in common. What could go wrong?
We made it to the fringe box office by mid afternoon. I had intended to collect tickets but had left my card back at base. Luckily, in spite of my cursing, we knew we would be OK until the following day, so we got hold of the magical map of venues and headed for one of the free fringe pubs, a flyer for an act about to start and a flurry of rain were enticement enough for our first act: Four Screws Loose. I held my breath; if Nick hated them, he would probably turn against the entire holiday. Even as the intro music played I reflected that I should have arranged to start with a mainstream act from off of the TV. We were grey, fat people sitting in an audience of mainly students. As it turned out, we loved Four Screws Loose. They were a fetchingly puerile foursome, with well rehearsed, short sketches many of which were excellent. They achieved the unachievable: nob gags that were both original and funny. I was less sure of the Newman and Baddiel style young mocking the old thread, but it was forgivable nonsense. Nick was laughing along and in my relief, I put paper money in the collections bucket, which the young performer seemed overwhelmed about. Perhaps he thought that us oldies wouldn’t go for the talking testis material. Ah, the folly of youth.
We had a stroll about, (Nick had an appropriately Scotch Pie), watched some street performing breakdancers and a cigarette magician, then we wondered up to the Festival Theatre to see Stewart Lee Silver Stewbilee. It was celebratory variety show that lived up to the fan generated hype, offering the looked for key players in Stewart Lee’s career plus Frank Chickens and Franz Ferdinand. As I revealed to a frankly appalled Lee and Herring fan the following day, I like the work of Stewart Lee (as does Nick), but I love Richard Herring (Nick does not). In the light of that, and although I acknowledge Stewart Lee’s artistry, I can’t say the gig set me alight.
Kevin Eldon in character as a poet was confusingly close to reality. I laughed, but Nick didn’t in the same way that Nick laughs at The Office, and I don‘t. Paul Putner did some strange character comedy as a Robin-Williams-alike comic using obscure American references. I’d like to say I got it, but it was over my head. Nick got restless. Simon Munnery brought back the Urban Warrior routine for the occasion which, being rooted in the 80’s has improved with age. Richard Herring came on from his place in the audience shouting and tearing up Stewart Lee’s book. It seemed evident to me that this had been planned, although the dialogue was unscripted and I laughed a lot, but in the interval, and especially as the acts were applauded (or in Herring’s case not applauded) at the end it became clear to me that many people thought that Lee had not been aware that it would happen and were upset on his behalf. Chorlte thought so too, but Richard Herring has since said that it was all planned you be the judge. The ‘in’ jokes of three of the four old friends lent a feeling of divide between those who got the evening and those who didn’t. And strange patterns in the 1500 strong audience of bellowing laughter and embarrassed shuffles were the result. I daresay Stewart Lee may well have intended and enjoyed the effect. Trouble is, I paid for the tickets and to paraphrase the words of Frank Skinner, I like my comedy funny.
We took a taxi back to the Tania B&B which looks nicer on the website than it does in reality but which was still far too good for us even if you count the ‘small double’ bed and the shared bathroom. As it turns out, you can have a lot of fun there.
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