There's no such thing as weird on The Fringe

OF A BIG BLUE TENT, A BLONDE WIG AND A VAGINAL LIFT

But not all three at once.

So we've done two days of Fringe going so far and seen three shows.  I'd call that a nice gentle start, easing ourselves in.  

Last night we went to see our favourite local comedian/physiotherapist, Elaine Miller, in her show Gusset Grippers.  Appropriately for a day when the skies crowded in and Edinburgh took on a damp sheen this was an hour dedicated to people who pish themselves.  Part comedy, part education, part science.  But mostly just bloody funny, despite, or maybe because, being shambolic.  How many shows offer you interactive pelvic floor exercises, a mental image of Bruce Willis in a lift inside a vagina, and free fanny wash?  Recommended show?  Absolutely.

Today we went to the BBC's Big Blue Tent which we've visited frequently in the past, and will be doing again this year.  The draw is twofold.  There's a variety of interesting events taking place.  And (better still) it's all free.  But having applied for loads of shows it's in the hands of the licence fee gods as what you actually get tickets for.  This afternoon's offering was towards the more random end of the spectrum.

I haven't consciously chosen to listen to Radio 1 since the eighties.  So the name Greg James registered zilch with me, old fogey that I am proud to be.  His presence on stage might explain why the crowd we were part of felt a good bit younger than is usual for these shows.  Bring back a Radio 4 audience....

Mr (Master?) James was interviewing John Kearns, winner of the best comedy newcomer award at The Fringe 2013.  Talking about how his life had changed as a result (he only gave up the day job last November and is now a full time professional comedian) and why August in Edinburgh matters so much to comedians in general, even those who have been well established for years.  There's simply nothing else like it in the comedy world (which is great for those of us lucky enough to live here) and has been the launch platform for so many of today's laugh making stars.

Kearns described his own act as 'silly', complete with daft wig and comedic false teeth.  We 'do' silly, so we followed him down to town and filed into the Voodoo Rooms (a good place to visit for breakfast even when the Festival has packed up its suitcases and wheeled itself off to Waverley Station).  JK was certainly different, although far less weird/silly than a lot of other acts we've seen (and the lack of a miniature Die Hard star was noticeable), and likes a bit of audience interaction. We were in the front row.  So somehow I ended up being the one perched on a bar stool on stage, ill fitting curly blonde wig affixed to my head.  I was instructed to drain the remains of my pint which was then replaced by a mixture of Lucozade and Tia Maria.  So stroking John's right knee, and swaying with him in time to Sting's rendition of 'Fields of Gold', seemed like the easy option rather than having to take a sip of such a disgusting mixture.

But I wonder what pictures my mind will flash before me next time I hear Any Sting?