Jo Caulfield, Lauren Pattison, Huge Davies, Amy Gledhill - Mark Muldoon's Fringe Diary

Written by: Mark Muldoon
Published: Friday 23rd August 2024

Let's throw some respect in Jo Caulfield's direction, who quietly and deservedly draws big crowds, always gaining a flush of positive reviews, but never seemingly much in the way of wider attention or acclaim.

Part of this may be down to the fact that she performs at The Stand - previously the Fringe's best venue group, but now a somewhat underwhelming organisation that slowly has the life dwindling out of it - that even locals often speak of with various degrees of frustration or outright apathy. But the crowds still flock to shows like this one.

"There's plenty of people I want to slag off" - she says at the start, by way of excusing herself rushing straight into the bulk of the show. That summarises the tone well - Caulfield pairs a deliciously venomous tongue with withering bafflement at various aspects of the modern world. She asks the audience to guess which breed of dog she was visually compared to recently, and they immediately guess correctly. Cue a tsunami of laughter.

A particularly harsh critic may suggest that the weakest material here is a bit standard-issue Radio 4, if nowhere near the worse end of that station's output. Let's be clear, Radio 4 would be extremely lucky to have as much Caulfield as they can get. And besides, that still leaves 95% of the jokes in this show to land exactly where you'd want them to. Her section deconstructing the plot of a porn film probably isn't going to win awards for comic originality, though the ending pays off handsomely. She's able to surprise even the most hardcore of comedy aficionados with a punchline they weren't expecting. There's a lovely, playful section recounting how she managed to wangle an invite to boy's night down the pub. Jo Caulfield is a phenomenally reliable comic.

In terms of relatable Fringe themes, there will be plenty who can empathise with Lauren Pattison aiming to be less anxious, now she's turning 30. It's a fairly acute affliction, one that's prevented her from learning to ride a bike, swim or drive a car. She details how people think she's a pushover. If her stories don't always end with a punchline that satisfyingly detonates, she makes you really believe they are true. Pattison is a recommendable comedian in general, but a particularly good one for, say, the 15-24 year old female market, many of whom will take extra pleasure in seeing their lives and thoughts reflected here.

You do get a sense that Amy Gledhill deployed her Graham Norton-level anecdotes in 2022's barnstorming debut. There's a feeling that this sophomore effort has correspondingly been left with second-tier stories. None of them disastrous, just maybe not the gold of her debut. As if she's Oasis, gradually running out of classic tracks the more albums she has to release.

All this is before the show ventures into the matter of a sexual assault, which Gledhill doesn't allow to significantly derail the momentum of this comedy gig. She's funny with it, as well as incisive, without downplaying how it affected her. The show also comes with a very strong opening, based around the 1998 Touch & Go hit Would You Go To Bed With Me?, which Gledhill quickly follows up with an ADHD line that's a delicious quip for the committed comedy fans in the room. You trust she'll come up with the goods to ensure the third show isn't her Be Here Now.

Huge Davies is going in hard on an audience member for not clapping along with everyone else. In a way you don't see that much of at the Fringe anymore, though the antagonism does work for him, and inarguably fits comfortably within his comic persona. Topics include Pokemon, the film E.T. and the sitcom Friends. Which all feels deliberate: accessible pop-culture topics, tackled adventurously. There's a brief reference to the Met Police monitoring the gig, which is an odd action for London's force to be taking against a comedy show happening in Scotland. Davies states at one point that the show was written in a month. If true, it's a pretty impressive feat of writing agility, though it perhaps shows, during what does feel like a pretty hit-and-miss hour.

It feels like a transitional year for Mat Ewins, who has spent the last decade-or-so churning out shows that often rank amongst the best any Edinburgh Fringe can offer. That's not the case here, but if you're going to pad out 40 minutes of comedy, it's a sensible strategy to throw in a bunch of greatest hits material, rather than underwhelm your audience with sub-par newer gear. Ewins deals in what he refers to as 'software comedy', and his skillset for inventively using technology to dazzle comedy audiences is unmatched. Add in all that old material and you've got a show that's great for his existing fanbase, but fully ideal for anybody who's yet to discover him.

Lil Wenker's show, meanwhile, includes some pretty aimless attempts at plotting, but the bulk of the hour is given over to a succession of low-imagination audience participation ideas and set-pieces. In the pub after the show, you may be able to come up with better. She'd do well to study the modern greats - Natalie Palamides, Adam Riches, Nina Conti, Jason Byrne, Daniel Kitson - if this is going to be her niche. The kindest possible reading of this show is that she had surgery three weeks before the Fringe, which derailed her writing and brainstorming sessions somewhat, although given that this show has already been staged at a range of other comedy festivals in recent months, the extent to which that explanation holds up is uncertain.

There's only one problem with John Tothill's performance. It's an unfortunate but distracting one: he's incredibly reminiscent of comedian Colin Hoult, who, as it happens, is performing at the same time on the other side of this venue, the Pleasance Courtyard. His vocal style, theatrical flourishes, turns of phrase and playful charm - particularly in his interactions with the audience - all bear a striking resemblance. Which isn't to say it's deliberate, it just sidetracks you. Still, Hoult is one of the best we have: there are innumerous worse comedians to find yourself compared to. Those audience interactions are a pure distilled pleasure. It's unendingly impressive that he manages to find fresh humour in observational comedy about the topic of sleep. The 'slow & steady wins the race' section is certainly nicely thought out. Consider the show a good story well told, and he's skilled enough to ensure the relationship with his audience ascends to palm-of-his-hand territory. If you only see one of them this Fringe, I'd have to point you towards Hoult first, but that still makes Tothill a great shout. There's definitely room for both of them, even if he declines to steak out a slightly more unique comic persona.

Finally for this year, we head over to Summerhall. Burnout Paradise (no relation to the 2008 video game) is technically a theatre show, though it's definitely funny enough to be worthy of your attention. My handsome BCG colleague Si Hawkins succinctly described it as 'Taskmaster-adjacent' - four participants complete a range of challenges (or 'tasks') whilst running on treadmills. If they fail to beat their personal best running distance, the whole audience can claim refunds on their ticket price.

My favourite task challenge? Complete a Creative Scotland funding application. It all works well though. Each round starts and pandemonium ensues. It'd be interesting to see if the audience ever doesn't get behind them, instead willing them to lose so they can claim their refunds. Some may consider the show a demonstration of the power of newly-formed communities, or a critique of how much we ask from our performers. But it's just as easy to go along and enjoy watching joyful chaos unfurl.

Read previous editions of this column (featuring most of the Edinburgh Comedy Awards nominees, plus Ivo Graham, Olga Koch and Kiri Pritchard-McLean).

Mark Muldoon is also available on Instagram and Twitter. He does acknowledge the existence of Little By Little, Stop Crying Your Heart Out and The Importance Of Being Idle as late-stage Oasis classics.