Kerry Godliman

Review: Ricky Gervais in Derek

Where Kerry Godliman and Ricky Gervais turn in naturalistic performances, wringing humour from their characters' behaviour, Karl Pilkington is there in a comedy wig, being Karl Pilkington. It doesn't quite gel.

Wonder Woman doesn't have kids, does she?

Comedienne, mother, and TV personality Kerry Godliman has a busy life at the best of times. Come the Fringe however, her life spins up a notch, as she reveals here.

Interview: Kerry Godliman, comedian

Sometimes, when Kerry Godliman arrives for a stand-up gig, she encounters puzzled looks. "People are like, 'Didn't you have a kid?' And I go, 'Oooooh! A kid! Where did I leave the kid? Is it in my bag? Where do you think the kid is?' It's this weird oversight that presumes I am the one who should be permanently at home with that kid."

Michael McIntyre is uproariously funny. He is also very nice. That he manages to be both simultaneously is testament to his talent. Tonight, his touring stand-up show is recorded in Belfast. Patrick Kielty, a local, is the "headline act". Fellow comedians Neil Delamere, Jeff Green and Kerry Godliman also take turns.

Michael McIntyre's Comedy Roadshow arrives in Belfast, where he introduces the comedians Jeff Green, Neil Delamere and Kerry Godliman. But the biggest welcome of all was saved for local boy Patrick Kielty, who begins his act by talking about the return of sectarian killing. "It's nice to be back in Northern Ireland," he says. "Now that you're up to your old tricks again. We were doing so well. We were like George Best with a new liver." He goes on to explain some of the finer points of Irish politics ("The Real IRA is not the real IRA. The real IRA is the government") before discussing the state of the economy. "The world is skint," he says. "Britain and Ireland - we're the worst. Britain is the tramp at the Link machine with the cup. Ireland, we're the dog on the string." It's the way he tells 'em.

Michael McIntyre bounds around the stage like an overexcited circus ringmaster when his roadshow reaches Belfast. He's remorselessly cheerful (a good thing in a comedian) and relentlessly good-natured as he has gentle fun with audience member Christine Bleakley about the incongruities of The One Show ("I saw Andrew Lloyd Webber talking about knife crime"). And redoubtable Olympic gold-medallist Dame Mary Peters gamely plays along when McIntyre does far from dextrous impressions of her winning sports. But really he's little more than master of ceremonies, this week introducing Jeff Green, who gets some mileage out of being newly married and his wife's love of cushions, a chipper Kerry Godliman, who wonders why baby clothes have pockets, and headliner Patrick Kielty, whose best bit is a funny Facebook version of the Middle East conflict.

Cavity was glitteringly original. Sean Grundy's play was a comedy about adultery, fast, sexy and I'd have said 'edgy' too, if that word hadn't recently been bled of meaning. Here, I intend it to convey going as close as possible to the borders of descriptive propriety while employing sharp wit to induce a slightly shocked delight. Alison Crawford directed a marvellous cast - Julian Rhind-Tutt, Ingrid Oliver and Kerry Godliman - with glorious assurance. Afternoon Play is not often as utterly entertaining as this. Everyone, me included, usually moans about it. Frequently, these days, we must admit we can be wrong. If you missed Cavity, you missed a treat.

Sharp, sexy, surreal yet somehow utterly believable comedy by Sean Grundy. Adrian (Julian Rhind-Tutt) starts an office romance with Kirsty (Ingrid Oliver). He takes her home, thinking his wife, Lucy (Kerry Godliman), is away. But she comes back unexpectedly. Kirsty hides, falls into the cavity wall. One thing leads to another, and she stays. And stays. This brilliantly observed piece is not for those who shy at on-air sex. But for anyone who relishes characters who come to life in a situation which grows around them almost magically, don't miss it.