Edinburgh Diary (part 1)

EDINBURGH FESTIVAL DIARY

Andrew Kaye is a Doncaster-based journalist who has been attending the annual, world-famous Edinburgh Arts Festival for the last 10 years. Destroy Before Reading is proud to bring you his exclusive online diary from this year’s event for your reading pleasure.

DAY 1

Well, I have my laptop with me and I just about have a WiFi signal in my room – coming from an unsecured unknown source somewhere to the south-west of here – which means I can report to you on the 2009 Edinburgh Festival on a daily basis.

Yesterday a man walked right past me, close enough for me to wrestle him to the ground and whisper “You are good police!” in his ear. It was Clarke Peters (aka Lester Freamon from The Wire). I was so excited I had to ring my other half and gloat immediately. The gloating couldn’t wait. David Simon is supposed to be here in a few days, but if I see him I won’t wrestle him down. Motherf****er looks exactly like a bear.

Other things I saw include Hardeep Singh Kohli in a Superman t-shirt, a pair of Ugg boots abandoned outside my window, a tombstone in a toilet, and a sign on the church opposite the flat that says “Who is this Jesus?” This Jesus. As opposed to ‘that Jesus’, and of course ‘t’other Jesus’. I also saw a lot of complicated haircuts, and far too many popped collars. Young people today, grumble, grumble…

It was improbably busy everywhere yesterday. Hopefully that’s because it was 2-for-1 on just about everything and it will calm down for the rest of the week. Otherwise Edinburgh is going to achieve critical mass by the weekend and we’re all going to be sucked into some alternate hot, dark and airless dimension.

Two actual gigs were seen:

Wil Hodgson doing his monologues about being ‘the most started on man in Chippenham’ and doing a bit of light Danny Dyer baiting. Awesome as usual.

David O’Doherty in a big room doing his difficult ‘Year after winning the Perrier Award, everyone’s bringing their mum to see me’ show. I took my mum (and dad) to see his show. They enjoyed it and so did I. The very low energy musical whimsy was as advertised.

And now the sun is coming out! So it’s time for the ritual scouring of the second hand book shops – a venerable tradition.

DAY 2

I was optimistic about the sun coming out. On Day 2 I mostly saw rain and the insides of bookshops. Bought some David Eggars, Alain De Botton, Richard Brautigan, and Jon Ronson.

Also saw a man dressed as a demon in a dark suit chatting and walking with a perfectly normal woman with a pram. It’s the juxtaposition that does it.

They have those Dyson Air Blades in a lot of the toilets now. Nothing makes me feel like I’m living in the future so much as a Dyson Air Blade. I never used to wash my hands. Now I go to the toilet JUST to wash my hands. Too much information?

Later on I saw Dan Antopolski and Wil Hodgson, but neither of these are first-class sightings. After all, Hodgson has bright pink hair. He’s highly visible. And Antopolski is very tall. Been here nearly two days and not a single Kitson sighting. He’s going to start thinking I’ve given up stalking him if I’m not careful.

School For Scandal. Star-studded production (Lionel Blair! Stephen K Amos! Phil Nichol! Marcus Brigstocke! Er… Paul Foot!) Exuberant, silly, hugely self indulgent. Significantly, very few of the laughs came from the actual Sheridan play but from the clowning around and anachronistic references. Director Cal McCrystal used to direct the Mighty Boosh shows, don’t ya know. A peerless orchestrator of onstage chaos, he is.

Pajama Men Awesomely slick, likeable American sketch duo flitting from character to character in the blink of an eye. A tight and constantly inventive 60 minutes. Must surely see a nomination or two come their way.

Andrew Lawrence. Twisted little ginger comedy elf. The show’s called ‘Soul-Crushing Vicissitudes of Fortune!’ and fully lives up to that title. It’s essentially a series of verbally dexterous foul rants. Expect him to not be on Michael Mcintyre’s Comedy Roadshow anytime soon. At gigs like this, it’s always fun looking around and seeing who really isn’t enjoying it at all but is too polite/stuck in a row/with their partners to leave. There were a few with faces like thinder. Thinder? Yes, thinder – it’s thin thunder. <– this is a Spike Milligan joke.

It genuinely is sunny this morning. So by noon it’ll probably be hail-stoning.

DAY 3

My room is ankle-deep in flyers and free magazines. I am existing on a diet of red wine and Aberdeen Angus burgers. I think I’m getting shin splints from all the walking on wet cobbles. Everywhere you want to get to is uphill. I haven’t even seen my room between the hours of noon and midnight. I am tired.

What was the weather like today? At 11am it was sunny. At noon it was raining. At 1pm it was sunny. At 2pm it was raining. At 3pm it was sunny. And so on. It was, however, windy all day. Result?

Can a man shop for books while having his crotch sniffed by a massive dog? Yes, I can confirm that he can, or at least I can. The second hand bookshop off the Grassmarket is small and dark with narrow aisles. Not the ideal place to have a massive dog wandering free. I had to step over him to get inside, at which point he took a liking to me and followed me wherever I went. When I left, it was touch and go whether he was going to follow me down the street. He didn’t in the end, but seemed sad to see me go.

There were sightings of Mark Thomas, Nicholas Parsons, Simon Munnery, Anthony Costa (?!), and Dan Antopolski. I realise I may have peaked too soon with Clarke Peters, but that is often the way with these things.

Woody Allen’s God sees me breaking my golden rule: no student productions. But it was worth it because I’ve never seen a production of this 1970s play before. Woody very rarely allows it to be staged. Maybe he’s realised his reputation can’t go anywhere but up at this point. Anyway, excellent, inventive staging and performances do full justice to this early, funny play. Two Greek dramatists are putting on a play, when they realise that they are themselves characters in a play. And so are the audience. Then Blanche DuBois turns up, and God dies in a freak accident.

Laura Solon The former Perrier winner is a very talented character comedian. Her show is packed with sharp lines but the whole thing is hung on an uninvolving story that doesn’t really pay off. Still, deserves better than playing third fiddle to Harry Enfield on his last TV show.

Richard Herring’s Hitler Moustache He is absolutely on fire this year, with a strong theme and the material to back it up. A breakneck series of ruminations on racism and related topics, with only one or two cheap knob gags thrown in, it’s obvious that this inch of upper-lip hair has brought out the best in him. Can a comedian get a Perrier nomination after 20-odd years of fringing? Probably not, but that’s a shame.

It genuinely looks like a nice day today. It’ll probably be a tsunami by lunchtime.