"It's not really a show," says Clive James by way of introduction. "I'm not a standup comedian." Expectations lowered, James can now begin his Audience With, 75 minutes of reflection, irony and essay from the Australian polymath. This is essentially a book festival event transferred to the Fringe - an evening of drollery rather than entertainment, the purpose of which is to help James sell his "intellectual autobiography", Cultural Amnesia. "You'll find," he says, portentously, "that there is something beyond comedy. And it's called tedium."
Not so: James would need to try harder than this to bore anyone. From his opening remarks about Edinburgh's perpetual rain, he is (paradoxically) bone-dry and amusing. The application of James's seen-it-all sagacity to subjects such as the media, the Olympics and celebrity culture is brilliantly deflating. Michael Phelps isn't a miracle, he's just a man with long arms.
But the celebrity cult is a sad fait accompli. It isn't worth interviewing anyone any more, reflects the ex-interviewer. "We've moved into the era when there are no secrets." This is James at his most engaging, digging a little deeper into the culture, being unashamedly intellectual. ("Nietzsche rarely gets a mention in standup shows ...") But there's not enough of it. Despite his early disclaimer, he is often just trying to be a comedian. There are jokes about George Bush and about James's love of M&S clothes - which are fine, but which squander the qualities that distinguish him from standup comedians.
These routines also foreground James's less lovable tendencies: his high self-regard and his lechery. I am no more interested in the "natural advantages" that he says wear out his Y-fronts than in his thoughts on women's beach volleyball. Far more engaging to hear how great music induces in him feelings of inadequacy, which feels like honest self-revelation rather than macho raillery.
The best part of his set is the extract from his recent book, an absurdly cultured critique of the pulp war movie Where Eagles Dare. When essays can be this funny, who needs standup comedy? Finally, we are reminded where James's real "natural advantages" lie - and it isn't in his underpants.
