Si Hawkins' Edinburgh Fringe 2024: Going Off-Piste, with Gwyneth, Ivo and Co

To really get the best out of the Edinburgh Fringe, it's best to mix it up a bit, break up the stand-up with some weirder or worthier stuff; after all, comedy here comes in many sizes. Proper plays. Puppets. Party games. People filling out full grant applications on treadmills. And several acclaimed comedians spreading their wings and trying other things.

A good way to start the day is The Big Bite-Sized Breakfast Show, and not just because the Fringe is expensive and this includes free coffee and croissants. Admittedly we early risers do wonder why the staff distributing them in the Pleasance Courtyard are wearing NASA t-shirts. Turns out they're the (clearly versatile) cast, and that's the first of the four plays they're performing, Celebs in Space, by Jessica Moss.

It gets big laughs but also some telling cheers at the very idea of sending vacuous personalities on a one-way trip to the void. Whereas I was nearly in tears up here two years ago, at a song by Gecko, about Laika the lost space dog. Funny that.

Anything but vacuous, Ivo Graham has ventured into the theatre section this Fringe with Carousel, a sort of companion piece to his regular stand-up hours. It's a typically erudite wheel around his life and loves, but now unfettered by the need for punchlines, every time. Instead, it's punctuated by the music he loves and an occasional football season. But will it work, for fans and Ivo virgins?

"It's funny the moments of bullishness you allow yourself in this process," he admitted to BCG, a few months back. "Carousel is a slightly more three-dimensional show about my adult life and the various challenges in it. I can't really measure lots of things about it, particularly without the barometer of laughter: whether people will find it very delicate, or whether they'll find it a bit of an overshare, that's hard to know."

It's a lovely thing, as is Adam Riches' Jimmy, also in that section but a whole different ball game. Sporting just a retro shirt and shorts - and clearly a whole lot of prep, plus some spot-on sound effects - the former Edinburgh Comedy Award winner transforms into late-era tennis bad-boy Jimmy Connors, fighting the relentless march of time, mid-match. An absolutely extraordinary performance.

And now a classic Edinburgh namedrop: Gwyneth Goes Skiing is recommended to me by none other than Kirsty Wark, while we're in line for Jimmy. And she's not wrong. Very loosely based on Gwyneth Paltrow's recent court case, the characterisations here are a lot less rigorous than Riches', but purposefully so. It's a big trashy romp and tons of fun, with audience members playing various parts, prompted by on-screen autocues. Although there's intrigue the afternoon I attend, as Gwyneth's boyfriend mysteriously disappears midway through. He piste off.

The Fringe is famously expensive for performers in particular, but the right idea can spawn a monster. Another big-room show on a relatively small budget (presumably) - and also packed the day I attend - Hold Onto Your Butts is a full-on spoof of Jurassic Park, featuring just two actors and a foley artist. Their DIY-blockbuster methods are very watchable, if not quite as inventive as some Fringe alumni I can think of, but if you love the movie you'll have a whale of a time.

Two tips for future TV formats? Burnout Paradise is a sort of reverse Taskmaster, in which four hardy performers do regular, everyday tasks - making dinner, admin, plus some light performance - but all while running on treadmills. And the task that really resonates with this arty crowd? Filling out a full grant application to Creative Scotland, including supportive statements and photos emailed over from the audience (here's the one they downloaded and attached from me - while running).

It may all sound pretty silly, but you have never seen a crowd become one big supportive community in quite such a fashion - despite the offer of full refunds if the tasks fail. It could be an elaborate psychology experiment.

Speaking of which, Werewolf: Live is like The Traitors meets 28 Days Later, a generally jolly but sometimes sinister affair set in a safe room, and based on the popular party game. There are scary blackout-based goings-on and the whole audience winds up getting involved, so be warned. Also don't book anything that starts soon after, as it's very hard to sneak out without really buggering up the narrative for everyone else.

Both of those shows are at the splendid Summerhall complex, as is another of this year's most talked-about, 300 Paintings, by Sam Kissajukian. It's the tale of an Australian comedian who suddenly jacks it in, locks himself in an old warehouse and goes on a creative spree - which turns out to be a manic bipolar episode. The results are amazing though, and some of Kissajukian's work can be viewed in a dedicated gallery elsewhere in this old veterinary college.

Expectation can be the enemy at the Fringe. The slightly abstract poster for Chairs, on early at Gilded Balloon's Patter Hoose, suggests a high-concept affair, maybe involving clever props or puppetry. In fact this reworking of the 1952 Eugène Ionesco farce is a fairly standard two-hander, all a bit heady and heightened and slightly exhausting, in truth. It does feel like proper old-school Fringe though, the sort of thing to get out of your system before an afternoon of stand-up.

Also in a Patter Hoose early slot, Funny Bones is a curious clown affair, which clearly baffles this audience early on, but eventually wins us over, before then going a bit religious towards the end. Absolute rollercoaster. It's the real story of Mark Branner, whose acting career was derailed by a life-threatening road accident, although the star of the show here is a life sized skeleton puppet - which is a bit more like it. Look, we like a good puppet - is that a crime?.

Funny bones, as a concept, gets a mention in The Last Laugh too, Paul Hendy's terrific play in which three comedy titans, Tommy Cooper, Bob Monkhouse and Eric Morecambe - or, perhaps, their spirits - share one final dressing room. They certainly share some spirits: Cooper keeps the tumblers topped up throughout.

Simon Cartwright as Monkhouse is particularly good, and the quiet heart of the show, musing on the workings of comedy while quietly envying his two funnier-boned contemporaries.

Meanwhile much of the audience are clearly just revelling in the joy of seeing these heroes back on stage again, the performances and staging are that impressive. And if they start late, you get to see the equally impressive staff disassemble this hefty set in about five minutes, afterwards. The unsung heroes of every Fringe, the backstage folks - a well-deserved round of applause for them too.