The title is quite the give away for the character of this show. Langford oozes a mournful quality that unsurprisingly doesn’t do much enthusing this Monday night. Langford is clearly a sensible man. He’s cautious, he’s awkward and by his own admittance, he doesn’t bode well in large groups of people. Aren’t we all glad he’s on stage then.
I often wonder if a smaller crowd makes for an easier show. I suppose the satisfaction of an audible response is sacrificed for a more intimate connection. There are only seven in the audience tonight, and it certainly seems to work well for Fabbri, whose quiet ramblings of life working at the jobcentre keep us giggling gently until midnight.
Activists, with their banners, placards and poor personal hygiene are usually the sort of people I try to avoid. There is an ever present suspicion that many of the bearded lot, with their acoustic guitars, bongos and New Statesman newspapers, tend to be there more for the banter and ganja than for world revolution. 
Chris Cox, who markets himself as the mind reader who can’t read minds has been performing at the Fringe for four years but still hasn’t made up his own mind. Part comedian, part magician, playing neither very well; the tone is unclear. Latest Reviews
 | Sunday, 06 September 2009
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 | Sunday, 06 September 2009
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 | Friday, 04 September 2009
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 | Thursday, 03 September 2009
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 | Thursday, 03 September 2009
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 | Thursday, 03 September 2009
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| 19 August 2009
| 03 August 2009
Seriously funny
Behind the machine gun gags and deadpan delivery lies a surprisingly modest performer who is passionate about the business of making people laugh.
| 03 August 2009
Jason Byrne My Edinburgh
A regular at the Fringe since 1996, Irish comic Jason Byrne delivers a fine line in inspired daftness along with much mischievous interaction with the willing victims in the front row.
