Yesterday morning started with me sitting in Fringe Central and 82-year-old Lynn Ruth Miller coming up to me.
Her first words were: “I saw a wonderful show on anal sex. It was so beautiful that I thought I might try it.”
“What’s the show?” I asked.
“I dunno,” replied Lynn Ruth. It was two years ago. It was performed by somebody from LA and that’s what they do in LA.”
“Where was the venue?” I asked. “Up a back passage?”
“I dunno but, of course XXXX just loved it cos he will just stick his anywhere.”
“Who’s XXXX?” I asked.
“You know. The guy who follows me around.”
“You have a stalker?”
Lynn Ruth shrugged.
“Is he openly gay?” I asked.
“No. He’s a policeman.”
After that, I saw:
Angie Belcher: Mythical Creature
Part poetry, part stand-up, part stylised storytelling. All entertaining.
Then I went to The Grouchy Club and, before it started, got a hug and a cake from Patrick Monahan. That is what you get whenever you meet Patrick Monahan.
David Mills: Don’t Get any Ideas
He’s on a razor-sharp roll – like some 21st century gay American 5-star Dave Allen – and he sang three songs backed by the 5-star Laurence Owen. Good voice. Nice suit. Very funny.
Jody Kamali: Spectacular!
At last showing his range with multiple characters, all of them commendably weird.
Archie Maddocks: Ain’t got No Behaviour
As I have said before, he is as near a dead-cert for success as it is possible to be.
Il Puma va a Edimburgo
The fortnightly London Italian-language comedy night brought to Edinburgh for the second of its two shows. I remain mesmerised by watching them because, as I speak no Italian, it is like watching the purest of comedy performances – I am watching 100% performance without the interference of any meaning or context. Fascinating.

The Italian Puma comics last night (from left): Giacinto Palmieri, Luca Cupani, Romina Puma, Giada Garofalo
Before their show started, I asked:
“What is the Italian equivalent of the English theatrical well-wishing Break a leg!?”
Luca Cupani (who is in next week’s final of the So You Think You’re Funny? contest) told me the Italian equivalent is: “Shit! Shit! Shit!”
“If a play was successful,” he explained, “there were a lot of audience members, so a lot of carriages outside the theatre – a lot of horses – and they shit a lot.”
“So,” I said, “the more successful you were, the more shit there was?”
“Yes,” said Luca. “If the street is clean, your show is a failure.”