JUST returned, absolutely exhausted, from my annual sojourn to the PBH Free Fringe in Edinburgh, immediately  preceded by four days at Rebellion Punk Festival in Blackpool. So, 24 gigs in 18 days, a wonderful time immersed in the counterculture in which I have spent my life. Adrenalin carried me through, then I drove home and slept for 12 hours in my wife Robina’s arms. I am a very lucky man to still be doing this at 66, and have just about worked out how to manage my natural exuberance enough to survive such an intense period of performance! 
 
The Free Fringe may not have studs and spiky hair — neither do I, I’ve none to spike if I wanted to — but in its determination to bring back the original spirit of the Fringe it is the very essence of the DIY spirit of punk. I had lovely audiences and generous donations (that’s how it works, no tickets, no venue fees for performers, pay what you want at the end) for my 14 different shows in 14 days at the legendary Bannerman’s Bar and my two Early Music Shows in the equally legendary, albeit culturally diametrically opposite, St Cecilia’s Hall, and got to see plenty of my PBH Free Fringe fellow performers in action too. Some of them still are, tomorrow and on Sunday.
 
There was Pauline Vallance at Fingers Piano Bar, playing the harp brilliantly (she calls it something else, but it’s basically a harp) and singing the words of one song to the tune of another in absolutely hilarious style. Jilted John to the tune of Greensleeves and Joy Division Oven Gloves by Half Man Half Biscuit to the tune of the William Tell Overture were my personal favourites, but there were plenty more much nearer the musical mainstream to puzzle, uplift and amuse a thoroughly entertained audience! Loads to listen to on her YouTube channel — paulinevallance.
 
There was (and still is – you can catch her tonight and tomorrow at the Banshee Labyrinth at 7.40pm) staunch Free Fringe advocate and comedy hero Kate Smurthwaite embracing a radical new drag king direction as horrible, smarmy, oily misogynist Milo Standards. Show title? Penis de Milo. Content? Literally the actual things the actual blokes I used to work with in my 11 months as an actual stockbroker’s clerk 43 years ago used to come out with after the actual third after-work pint in the actual pub, and their successors presumably do now. (Hence my stage name, and the poem I wrote about them at the time, Every Time I Eat Vegetables It Makes Me Think Of You.) Simply by smiling at the end of the show, Milo became Kate again. Utterly brilliant. If you’re there, go and see it. 
 
There was brilliant Scottish songwriter Calum Baird taking anti-fascist anthems and resistance songs (YouTube: calumbairdsongs) to a Free Fringe karaoke pod in Cowgate (we get everywhere) and getting a rousing reception. There was (and still is, tonight and tomorrow night at 8.15) an ace spoken word open mic at the Banshee Labyrinth called Screech Night, hosted by Tom Juniper and featuring some really high-quality performers. There was my old mate John Otway doing a storming, packed, characteristically chaotic Free Fringe show at the Voodoo Rooms and then guesting with me at my show the following day.  

And outside the Free Fringe there was another Tom, this one a Johnson, bringing Otway’s 1980s play Verbal Diary back to life to fine effect and my old comedy comrade Mark Thomas proving that not all 2024 comedy is completely bland corporate shit at The Stand.

But most of it is, which is why, when long time Scotsman comedy critic Kate Copstick invited me onto her “Slaughterhouse” podcast,  I performed my anti-corporate comedy rap Comic in a Basket. And she agreed with it.
 
Football came courtesy of Steve’s spare season ticket at Hibs v Celtic (one-sided) and Edinburgh City v Bonnyrigg Rose (chaotic, but beautiful, since my ears were full of the Seagulls’ 3-0 win at Everton and we sit proudly at the top of the league) and I went for a curry with the Arts Editor which did our guts in. No names as to where. 
 
Cheers everyone!

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