Savage indictment of brutish blokes

sketches at breakneck speed, shouting ‘keep up!‘ to the Crowd. Luckily, footnotes are provided at the end like DVD extras.

Other spot-on characters include a ‘trendy vigilante with a mortgage to pay', Kate Bush (trying to pass for Duffy). and Gene Hackman, who Kamil S is stalking through a classified ad for a

bunk bed. Delivered like two precocious

and versatile child acting stars, it’s

inventive comedy for the mind. like a mutant Heat magazine and Monty

Python cross-breed. (Claire Sawers)

I Gilded Balloon Teviot, 668 7633, until 25 Aug, 5.30pm, 29—870 (EB—£9).

. JIM JEFFRIES ' How to lose your crowd in one horrible hour 0

Last year, our introduction to Victor Legit ended in a shocking explosion of abrasive violence. This time around, the finale from the slightly corrupt but quick-thinking officer of FACT (Federation Against Copyright Theft) occurs in similarly gory fashion, though revealing exactly how would be giving away a dramatic climax to this spot-on character show. Victor shares stage time this year with a series of seriously flawed chaps, all of whom are experiencing dark crises of confidence with their maleness having been rocked to the core. There's the former boy band icon now in his 405 but still pathetically trying to live the dream; a big game hunter in despair; a late-night TV quiz host spiralling towards purgatory.

But the ones who work best are the malevolently muscle-bound Victor. and Connor Connorson, an Aussie barman and ritualistic sex pest who shakes a cocktail and causes a stir with his audience participation. Behind all these rubbish men is Adam Riches. whose sublime writing and acting prove that. unlike his tragic creations, he’s a man firmly on the rise. (Brian Donaldson)

I Pleasance Courtyard, 556 6550, until 25 Aug, 2.10pm, $850—$950 (27—28).


No one expects fluffy. cuddly material from Jim Jeffries. The Australian comic

is infamous for his potty-mouthed.

middle-finger-up comedy. and he‘ll trash anything cancer, self-harmers.

. molested children as long as it gets

' a laugh. But unlike other un-PC

comedy giants such as Doug

Stanhope, Bill Hicks or Lenny Bruce

who reveal(ed) their genius through

fabulously obscene sets. there‘s nothing truly daring or thought-

provoking behind Jeffries‘ rock'n’roll bravado this year. Like a playground bully with a mic. at his worst he‘s Bernard Manning or Jim Davidson with a down under accent.

Warming up with typically straight-

_ talking. bad boy material drugs and MINDSQUEEZI s hookers good; queers and fat people BEHEMOTH bad (especially Kelly Osbourne. with

whom he's been having a high-profile

, beef) his set then unravels into a desperate taboo-by—numbers tirade. Spraying abuse like a scattergun, he

tries slagging dwarves, burns victims

and his fat mum to get an increasingly

disenchanted crowd back onside.

; before eventually waking up his old

' dear at 5am in Australia. “My mum

thinks my career's in trouble'. he moans into a stranger's mobile.

Judging by this performance, she

: might have a point. (Claire Sawers) I Udderbe/ly’s Pasture, 0844 545 8252, until 25 Aug, 9pm, E l2—E l4


GINGER & BLACK Dodgy songs and deadly put-downs m

Breakneck capers with Angela Lansbury. om

There can't be too many shows at the Fringe which feature a musical about BNP Uber-fUhrer Nick Griffin and his Robertson's Jam-eating, red. white and blue ways. And will anyone else dare to include cameos from Angela Lansbury and her crime-solving alter-ego, Jessica Fletcher, who turns out to be crap at am-dram? This is not a good show to see with a hangover or a slow- processing brain, as the mindsqueezin' part of the title means they pack in knowing, oddball topical comedy

Ginger 8 Black aren't just deadpan. They're the pan that's been buried. left 3 to rot. dug up and smacked about a bit just to make sure. They would grimace at this metaphor, and thereby prove my point. In fact. they would grimace if you composed the most eloquent literary distillation of their comedic style possible. They grimace a lot, because they're deadpan. And if

for see non-Festival magazine



Part-time warlocks, full-time fun 00000

It’s hard to imagine Paul Daniels onstage with a joint that transforms into a gold chain, and there’s no danger you’d have caught him magically turning a porn mag into a map of Iraq. Describing themselves as the ‘anti-Paul Daniels of magic’, these Aberdeenshire-born, London-living boys have given their take-the-breath-away magical skills a modern edge, with a very cheeky, charming, Scottish-flavoured brand of humour.

You might recognise the boys from their slot on Channel 4, where they terrified volunteers by acting out miracles performed by Jesus. It’s a tough act to follow (the son of God, not Channel 4), but for their debut show on the Fringe, they’ve brought a double-whammy of very funny patter (mostly based on their affectionate feelings for Coldplay, and each other), sarcastic comedy inspired by Super Mario games and the Bible, and darkly brilliant magic. The wine into water trick has stayed in, plus they make sure there’s not a closed jaw in the audience as they throw a fist through a stomach, pull out a Rubik’s Cube that fixes itself, and produce bowling balls and Absinthe shots out of nowhere. Clumsy attempts to woo the ladies are also good value, and one girl blushes when Stuart tells her, in his best impression of a smooth operator, that she is, ‘hot, like a kettle’.

Using Theremins, voodoo, razor blades, blood and pirates, this is a concentrated dose of stunning trickery and solid, no-fillers entertainment. They’ve done away with the glamour and hi-tech dazzle of old-school magic shows and replaced it with their creepy, geeky brand of macabre illusion. Barry & Stuart are pure magic, in the most Scottish sense of the word. (Claire Sawers)

I Underbelly, 0844 545 8252. until 24 Aug. 70.20pm, 29.50—El 7.50 ($8.504 70.50).

you're thinking this doesn't sound very funny, you're wrong.

The duo of En Jackson (the ginger one) and Daniel Taylor (the black one) summon shrieks of laughter With their withering put-downs. riotoust Lin-PC songs and subtle facial spasms of disgust. OK. so the studied sarcasm can stray into uneasy theatricality. but on the whole this is finely tuned comedy. from Taylor's job application letter to a TV producer that segues into a stalkerish versron of Eminem's ‘Stan', sending up the eager desperation of media wannabes. to Jackson's lightning transitions from heartfelt folkie balladeer to money- grabbing bitch-from-hell. A veritable

pan graveyard. (Nick Mitchell) I Pleasance Dome, 556 6550, until 25 Aug. 7.30pm, $850—$950 ((37—28)