The back of the stage is dominated by a photograph of Brockwell Lido in south-east London, taken in 1938. A group of young men saunter by the pool in their swimming costumes, while behind them - almost unnoticed - someone executes a graceful swallow dive.
Such is the setting for Julian Fox's teasing one-man show. Fox's work is an acquired taste, but I love the way he turns scenes from ordinary life into something extraordinary. He has almost single-handedly invented his own genre featuring curled holiday snaps, bad songs and comedy. His latest show is so low-key that it is almost non-existent. This is part of its inconsequential, wistful charm, particularly on an Edinburgh Fringe where everyone else seems to be shouting, "Look at me!"
Fox's piece follows a life led quietly and anonymously. As the stage becomes increasingly cluttered with the detritus of Fox's aching life (even the departure of his flatmate is greeted with relief), the ache at the heart of this void becomes ever louder. Fox explores two conflicting human impulses: the desire to wall ourselves in, and the yearning to make contact with the world. It is a sad little show with a secret smile and is completely unlike anything else on the Fringe.
· Until August 27. Box office: 0131-556 6550.
