They say you should write about what you know. Maybe that is why one person shows about the art of acting - or being unemployed and not acting - are always two a penny on the Fringe.
Or perhaps it is just navel-gazing. There is very little to distinguish Adrian Poynton's from any of the others. The story of an underemployed actor who loses what he was convinced would be his big break - and his girlfriend - to a rival actor, it is a desperate little tale of spiralling paranoia and revenge with a few jokes about playing Jack the Ripper at the London Dungeon thrown in.
It is not unpleasant, it won't give you any nasty diseases and you might even laugh once or twice, but it is completely pointless: it feels like the kind of show written by somebody who has booked themselves a slot on the fringe and then suddenly realised they've got a month to write it and get it together.
The construction is clumsy, relying on a telephone to do most of the acting, the plotting is obvious, the jokes are mostly feeble, and, most damagingly, Poynton fails to make his character in the slightest bit appealing. The title couldn't be wider of the mark.
· Until August 30. Box office: 0131 556 6550
