If you didn't know Rhona Cameron had been drifting away from stand-up this past half-decade, you might get a clue from her Edinburgh comeback. The old magic is still there, but the tricks are looking long in the tooth. This is a straightforward hour of observational comedy of an early 1990s vintage, and some of the jokes (all those complicated names for coffee at Starbucks, say) have had a fair few airings in the intervening years. But Cameron's easy onstage charm has survived I'm a Celebrity and the writing of two books, and ensures we don't mind as much as we might.
From the opening set piece, when we hear Cameron's voice do battle with British Rail's answer-phone system, the show offers up an hour of impotent annoyance at the follies of the modern world. It all adds up to something less than a coherent world view, but Cameron takes a few enjoyable pot shots along the way. I liked her rant about scented candles, with names like Invigorating and Sensual. "What if I were to burn both?" she asks. "Would I be bipolar?" And there's an enjoyably fogeyish skit in which she complains about low lighting and loud music in high-street shops.
There are times when Cameron loses her thread here, and she frequently refers to her notes. But her rapport with the audience is effortless (despite some odd provocation from the front row), as she talks us through her relationship with her morbid mother, the story of her failed stab at Buddhist meditation, and some entertaining insights into lesbian dating. She also insists at length, and very funnily, on the homosexuality of a certain renowned seafarer - which riff might aptly be subtitled, "She's a celebrity, get her out." As elsewhere, the laughs come from the daft disproportionateness of Cameron's exasperation - a winning quality that's very much intact in this solid if unspectacular homecoming.
· Until August 27. Box office: 0131-668 1633.
