The Edinburgh Fringe, Andrew Maxwell reckons, is an exam for clowns. "You're fretting for ages: 'Are my shoes big enough?' " And he's got a problem: this year's show was going to be about how you never get a British suicide bomber ...
Whether or not that's true (never trust a comedian) the lank and laidback Irishman has clearly been thinking a lot about the "interesting times we're living in", from the way al-Qaida have taken over from the IRA as the British bogeyman, to the myths that have been constructed about "fearless" London in the wake of July 7. Things must be pretty bad, he says, when the sight of someone masturbating on the tube is welcomed as a sign that life is returning to normal.
The rest of the show is not always this fresh, unfortunately. There's a great story about how he landed himself in trouble taunting a group of football fans, but surely it's time to retire jokes about Yeltsin's drink problem and Freddie Mercury's moustache? Likewise, most of us have now got over our shock at Bush winning a second term as president, and our amazement at the power of Google.
B+, Maxwell. Promising, but must try harder.
· Until August 29. Box office: 0131-556 6550.
