Well, that's it. The final weekend of my Fringe - of the Fringe - has drawn to a close. And what a great time I've had.

Last night I saw just one show - Henry Rollins. It wasn't so much a show as an opportunity to listen to him speak. Tales of heroic stunt acting and sharing great music with the mountain children of Sri Lanka mingled almost seamlessly with frighteningly vivid yet highly amusing descriptions of - and musings on the topic of - masturbation.

One thing is for sure: the next hotel I check into, I'll be thoroughly scrubbing the bathroom sink!

I left the Udderbelly at Bristo Square feeling like I'd spent an hour listening to my favourite uncle - the one I didn't have. I could have sat there for hours but for two reasons: one - Fringe shows are generally restricted to an hour in length and two - I was sat on the least comfortable chair of the whole festival.

Originally, this was to be the finale of my festival. But then Adam Hills went and organised a special charity show tonight for his Honk4Honker appeal, complete with special guests and auction. The show was scheduled for 11:30pm so I figured I should do something with the rest of the day.

This is where the idea of 'Fringe Revisited' comes in. I realised during the week that two of my favourite shows from the first weekend had faded almost completely from memory. I was simply exhausted from two long weeks at work and, despite being aware that I was enjoying myself at the shows, I really wasn't taking anything in.

I spotted that Emo Philips had announced an extra show so I bought a ticket. I did the same for Matt Green and, with a second Adam Hills show already booked, today shaped up to be a trip down memory lane, albeit a short one.

I know, there was any number of shows I could have seen and taken in something different. But part of me wasn't convinced I'd gotten value for money the first time round (my own fault completely and nothing to do with Emo or Matt) so I was determined to get it right a second time.

Emo was first up. Second time around he was even funnier, although perhaps the long festival had taken its toll on him, much as it does to most performers. There were a few slightly awkward moments, but he always rallied and made things brilliant again. In effect, it was almost a different show so now I feel like I've had two Emos for the price of, er, two.

After a break of two hours, I entered the box that is the Pleasance Baby Grand. This had been Matt Green's venue for the long month. I wonder if he'll be glad to see the back of it?

Again, second time around I enjoyed the show more than the first time. That sounds almost insulting, but it's not meant to be. My addled brain hadn't taken everything in at the start of the festival but this time it was ready to receive. It duly received everything it needed - a head full of laughs.

I hope Matt returns next year and graduates to a bigger venue. It would be just reward for two solid shows this year and last.

As I made my way up the hill to the Assembly on The Mound, I passed a trumpeter playing some soulful tune or other, quite in keeping with the quieter mood of the Royal Mile. I stopped and listened for a short time. Quite relaxing.

A short way further up, a young man was displaying his skills with a glass ball (think David Bowie in Labyrinth, only better). I watched till the end of the performance, donated a quid and he graciously allowed me to take this photo of him:

Apparently, he practiced for four years whilst at university. Time well spent - very talented indeed.

And so to the actual finale - Adam Hills. Yeah, I know I've seen him too this year, but this show was different. A charity show to round off the Honk4Honker Sick Kids appeal, complete with the auctioning off of five autographed Irn Bru taxis.

The show was co-hosted by Jason Byrne, with guest appearances from Kevin Bridges, John Bishop and Mark Watson. From the outset, this was going to be a night to remember.

Let's get the important bit out of the way first. As mentioned, the aim of the show was to raise more money for the Royal Hospital for Sick Children. This was done by way of an auction - specifically, five miniature Irn Bru taxis signed by famous Scots folk. They went as follows:

Kevin Bridges (auctioned off by the man himself) - £120 (I think - I was laughing too hard to hear)

Steven Moffat (current Dr Who writer) - £130

Ian Rankin (needs no introduction) - £145

Biffy Clyro (great band) - £130

I know what you're thinking - that's only four taxis. And all this took well over the allotted hour for the show. This was in no small part thanks to a fine performance from Jason Byrne, who had everyone in stitches from the start - when, in trying to sign the word 'pyramid', he inadvertently signed 'cunt'. We knew this because Catherine, Adam Hills' long suffering Sunday night BSL interpreter, was in hysterics. It was downhill all the way from there, with an interpretive dance performed to a Biffy Clyro track, Honker in his trouser fly and his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle pants attracting a lot of attention.

The fifth and final taxi was signed by Adam, Jason and John Bishop. The bidding started at £100 and quickly built to £300 before John whispered something to Adam - he was offering £1,000 for the taxi so he could have it as a memento of this brilliant evening. No one was arguing. A magnificent gesture met with rapturous applause.

Earlier in the evening, Mark Watson also agreed to donate the proceeds from that evening's sales of his book (sold after his own show) - about £180 added to the total. Generosity knew no bounds tonight.

To round things off, a final auction was conducted - by now, all thoughts of trying to constrain the show had gone out of the nearest available window.

Jason Byrne's Ninja Turtle undies fetched a handsome £50 and were signed by Jason and Adam, the audience being treated to a comedy striptease too.

I commented previously after Storm Large's show that it left me unable to think of anything other than 'blown away' by way of a review. I can honestly say that I am utterly unable to review tonight's show.

That is the show in a nutshell, but in all honesty you had to be there to truly understand what a monumentally, awesomely funny evening it was. I cannot ever do it justice with my mere words.

Suffice to say that a guaranteed £7,500 has been raised for the Honk4Honker Sick Kids appeal - and the JustGiving site will remain open for another month for anyone wishing to make a donation (see link above).

And so my own Edinburgh Fringe 2010 has ended on this highest of highs. It has been a brilliant month with much mirth, merriment and a fair splash of utter madness. If it were possible (and affordable) to string it out for another eleven months, I would be delighted.

But definitely not as delighted as I am with the way it has ended tonight.

Enough said.

Twitter links (that aren't actually links because I am too tired to make them links): @adamhillscomedy / @thejasonbyrne / @Honk4Honker / @watsoncomedian (Mark Watson) / @JohnBishop100 / @Kbridges1986 (Kevin Bridges) / @Beathhigh (Ian Rankin) / @biffy_clyro / @mattgreencomedy / @emophilips

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I don't know what to say. I am truly speechless. **

I'm also in a certain amount of pain.

I've exercised before - hard to believe when you look at me, I know, but it's true.  I have had gym memberships and forced myself to break a sweat, gasp for air and then suffered the next day when all those underused muscles complain vociferously and go on strike as a result.

But there is a set of muscles that has been woefully neglected until very recently and tonight they got a thorough workout.  (I said a set of muscles, not 'a muscle' - try not to lower the tone you lot)

This evening, I popped along to the Assembly on George Street, nabbed a front row seat and laughed myself silly for a whole hour.  It was the easiest gym class ever and if I hear any complaints from my laughter muscles in the morning, I'm applying to the NHS for a transplant.

Stood at the front of the room, gleefully coaching hundreds of participants, was the sublime Sarah Millican.  This was an extra show added to her sold out Fringe run and it's easy to see why tickets went so quickly.  I genuinely haven't laughed that hard since, well, when I saw Emo Philips the other weekend.  And even then (and I don't know if Emo would forgive me for saying this) I laughed harder tonight.

Frustratingly, I have an appalling memory.  Much of the routine has fallen out of my head now (the show ended less than two hours ago) but that's not really the point.  I have been left with a feeling of utter joy that will remain with me for some time.  And in days, weeks, months and years to come, every time I look at the little Gobshite badge, I will remember that feeling.

A wee while ago, I half whimsically thought it would be fun to try and persuade both Sarah Millican and Shappi Khorsandi to hug me during the festival.  In return, I would donate £50 to Adam Hills' Honk4Honker Sick Kids campaign (I have mentioned this previously).

I firmly believe a simple hug can make anyone feel better.  Tonight I have been embraced for a full hour.  Luckily for Sarah, she didn't have to come anywhere near me and that surely must count as a win!

Now I'm off to the 24hr shop to buy some chocolate and try something out...

** Ironic really, given that Sarah Millican's show is called Chatterbox

Oh, and if this was a proper review, it would have five stars attached. And a smiley. I think Sarah should treat herself to another new top as a reward.

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Another weekend finished. They go by so quickly, don't they?
At least, for a change, I'll have something again to talk about if anyone asks me what I got up to. (The response is usually along the lines of, "nothing much really." Exciting, isn't it?)

Yesterday was Ladies Day at the Fringe. Not officially, of course. What would all the men do? Stay home and have a wank?

Today was another manly day. Two shows. Two hours of laughter. And a squeaky shoe that made for a noisy walk home. Hey ho.

First up tonight was the ever brilliant Adam Hills. His show this year is focussed on the audience. First up, there was a twenty year old boy - he really did look ten. His mother was with him and I'm still in two minds about her real age (she tried to say she was thirty-five, but not many people were buying it). There was also Bill - a seventy year old chap from Leith. He was a bit scary - not in a horrible way, but since I also live in Leith, I will be avoiding all scary seventy year old chaps just in case.

As ever, I booked to see Adam's show on a Sunday, when he has his lovely sign interpreter in. Oh, the things he makes her sign! Tonight, I learned that the sign for Cyprus is basically 'small'. Fair enough. I also learned the sign for clitoris. Most definitely time well spent.

He also made a fourteen year old boy say fucker - an opportunity the lad embraced with obvious relish - but only after Adam asked him mum if it was OK. She had no qualms about it at all. Aah, the youth of today. They know all the swear words.

The second show of the evening - and last of the weekend - was Stephen K Amos. Oh, how far he has come since the heady days of Screaming Blue Murder in Staines. Still as funny and charming as ever. Part of the show entailed him reading excerpts from a diary he kept in 1982. (I remember 1982. I was called to the headmistresses office because I had difficulty with my handwriting and was, for some reason, punished for it. I was five! What did she expect?!)

He asked his audience if anyone still kept a diary - the response being a few murmured affirmatives. I thought later that, technically, yes I do - this 'ere blog being a sort of diary. The obvious difference being that I could never derive as much humour from this as Stephen can from his teenage scrawlings.

Another highlight was the failed attempt to con an audience member who left for a pee break. Sadly, she heard the plan. Another chap who left while Stephen's back was turned could have been targeted - but his wife spoiled it. Much silliness.

The 'black, curly hair' reference in this post's title refers to a story about meeting with BBC commissioner types who seemed afraid to refer to Stephen as black. It's all a lie though - he's not black at all. (But he does have a series on the BBC starting in the autumn. Aah, my old friend, all growed up.)

Finally, Stephen planted a seed into a twenty-one year old student's head - the next time he touches himself in that special way, he will see Stephen's face. Of course, all the blokes in the audience will have had the same thought pushed into their brains too. There may be a few interesting old chap fondling sessions in the near future - not that I'm going to dwell on that thought for any longer than the end of this sentence.

In other news, I found out tonight that I missed a chance to solicit a hug from Sarah Millican yesterday in my big fat fail of a quest to get hugs from both her and Shappi Khorsandi in aid of Honk4Honker. She was at Caroline Mabey's show in the afternoon. Bugger. Nevermind. I have already decided that my abject failure constitutes a penalty donation, so the Sick Kids hospital will still benefit even though I remain hugless.

By the way, the Honk4Honker link will take you to the JustGiving page for the Sick Kids fundraiser.  The £3,000 target has almost been reached.  I'll be doing my bit on Friday (hug or no hug!).

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Phase one of my Edinburgh Fringe second weekend lived up to the promise of the first. In one case, it even presented me with a problem. More on that later.

I'm still struggling a bit with the idea of going to see shows on my own. It is purely the hanging around between shows that gets to me. Once the show is up and running, I'm just like everyone else - having a right ol' laugh.

Anyhoo, Friday night got things off to a gentle start - just the one show to see. Not the slightly - nay mostly - tedious BBC One Show. I refer to a single, solitary event which is about all I could manage after another long week at work.

Henning Wehn - Germany's comedy ambassador to the UK was as entertaining as he was German, assuming Wikipedia is right and he is, in fact, German. Some interesting insights into who helped who to win (or lose) World War Two and some almost gentle ribbing of the English over the football are but two of the highlights of Herr Wehn's show. He certainly got things off to a good start.

After the show, I popped back into the Rowantree Bar for a quick pint and decided to take a punt on a show I'd not looked at before. It was only a fiver and would start Saturday's proceedings off at a reasonable hour. It would also cement Saturday as my Edinburgh Fringe Ladies Day - with all three performers being of the aforementioned female variety.

So, Saturday rolled on and so did an intense headache. Buggering, bastarding... buggering headache! It hurt. A lot. So I stayed in bed till 2pm. The headache showed no sign of clearing, so I rolled out of bed, stumbled into the bathroom and did bathroomy-type things that probably don't need explained here.

By 4pm, I was back at the Rowantree Bar, another pint in hand, wishing the headache would hurry up and fuck the hell off. Fortunately, Caroline Mabey's Eat Your Friends show helped me forget about the headache. Mostly because I spent an hour trying to figure out just what exactly was going on. In a good way, of course. Mabey's show is, as one Michael Legge put it, odd. But it's a good odd. An enjoyable odd. It's all about breakfast and that's just the beginning of the odd. I have in the past taken a punt on other shows and come away disappointed. I am glad to report that this was not the case on this occasion.

My oddness levels fully topped up, I made the slow stroll toward the Pleasance (a venue where much of my Fringe action seems to be taking place, not through any design, just coincidence). Time for another pint before my next show, so I stood at the bar and waited patiently to be served. A few moments later I noticed a chap hovering close to the bar, seemingly intent on being served before me, also seemingly in a hurry to be served. This chap was Dan Clark, writer and star of BBC sitcom How Not To Live Your Life. He graciously offered to let me be served first, but I allowed him in front of me as he seemed in a hurry to get beers in for other folk. He was very polite about it, unlike some stars who think they're big enough just to barge their way into a queue. And anyway, he got served by a gangly student boy, leaving me to be served by the pretty girl. Win!

I digress. The next show of the evening was the lovely Shappi Khorsandi - a woman as funny as she is gorgeous. And she's very funny. (I might have tweeted that by way of a short review after the show. Sod it. I did tweet that.) During the show, I had the honour of being one of the last remaining men standing after a round of questions aimed at finding a new partner for Khorsandi. Obviously, being tolerant of unwashed dishes stands me in good stead, but finding out that she was really a man whilst in bed together would be too much for me. Anyway, I have an asymmetrical face - a deal breaker apparently. Still, a very funny hour well spent nonetheless, even finding time for a bit of fly-gazing.

Back to Twitter for a moment: I tweeted that, if I could persuade Shappi Khorsandi and Sarah Millican (who I am seeing on Tuesday night) to hug me, I would donate £50 to Adam Hills' Honk4Honker Sick Kids campaign that he is running throughout the festival. Presented with a perfect opportunity to score one out of two after the show, I bottled it completely (partly because other folk were chatting to her and partly because I'm a pussy). Shappi commented during the show that she had more balls than her ex. Clearly this means she has way more balls than me. Then again, she gets up on stage every day and performs to big crowds - I run away from big crowds. And, based on current form, famous people too.

And so back to the Cowgate, moving past Just the Tonic (at the Rowantree Bar/The Caves) this time and on to the Underbelly. I had some time to kill so another lonely pint of Guinness made its way down my gullet as I stood in the corner, watching everyone else chatting away, enjoying the wait between shows.

Shortly after, it was time to queue up for my final show of the night. I asked an elderly gentleman if he was queueing for the show. To my surprise, he said yes. I thought, 'really? Wow.'

Allow me to explain. The final show of the evening was Storm Large - Crazy Enough. Storm Large is a balls out rock chick, to describe her in the crudest layman's terms possible. She is not the sort of act I would expect old people to see. And yet, here they were. Lots of them. Maybe Mabey's earlier oddness had rubbed off on the day and this was to be the surreal culmination of it all.

There was nothing odd about the show. Storm Large (and yes, for the zillionth time, it is her real name) did what you would expect any balls out rock chick to do. She owned the room from start to finish. A heady mix of rockin' tunes, short but introspective monologues and dirty humour combined to form a prefect show.

And there lies the rub. Up until now, Emo Philips has been my stand-out show and, to be honest, I didn't expect anyone else to topple him, let alone so easily. Storm Large did just that. OK, so in general comedy stakes, Emo still has the top spot. There were far more laughs per minute in his show. But for performance as a whole, Storm takes it - by the bucket full. More tweeting after this show - I basically said I was blown away by it. Reading subsequent comments from other folks on other websites, this seems to be a popular response to the show.

A show so good, it renders the casual reviewer incapable of describing the experience in any other way.

And that's exactly how it should be.

Twitter links for folk who tweet: @mabeycakes - Caroline Mabey, @ShappiKhorsandi - Shappi Khorsandi (d'uh!), @Stormof69 - Storm Large, @SarahMillican75 - Sarah Millican, @michaellegge - Michael Legge, @adamhillscomedy - Adam Hills, @Honk4Honker - Honker (all will be explained)

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Following last night's excellent comedy spree was going to be hard. Harder still because I only saw one show. But that one show blew last night out of the water, clean across dry land and somewhere into the dust bowl of Timbuktu.

Emo Philips. A very funny man. Some subtle jokes that only an intelligent audience would pick up on and tonight's audience was intelligent. And up for it. Of course, there was your normal level of jokes too, but done in an Emo way - this makes them more special.

I have decided that I would like my own personal Emo to be at my beckon call, to cheer me up when I need a bit of laughter.

I'm still smiling thinking about the show. I'm tempted to go again.
Brilliant.

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It's fair to say that my existence has been pretty crappy recently.  But I'm not here to dwell or mope (there is plenty of time for that later).

Tonight I had my dwindling spirits lifted by three comedians.  This was the first night of my own Fringe - I'm seeing eleven shows in total and this evening got things off to a flying start.

First up was Matt Green. I saw him last year following a recommendation from a young lady in the Pleasance box office.  The show we wanted to see (I forget which it was) had sold out, so we bought the last remaining tickets for Matt's show.  And we really enjoyed it.
Seeing he was back this year, I booked my ticket early.  I decided to make his show the opener to my festival to be sure of getting things started properly.  I was not disappointed.
I won't spoil it for anyone who is thinking about going to see this show by hinting at the jokes, except to say that I feel he made it abundantly clear that he does not have a wide, flat penis.
Afterwards, I geekily tweeted my enjoyment - and Matt responded with thanks and politely asked if he could retweet my comments.  That is my claim to fame - I have been retweeted by Matt Green.  It's the little things in life that keep me going!

A short walk later, I found myself at the Pleasance Dome to see Alex Zane.  If you're not sure who he is, he has presented a few telly programmes here and there, including Rude Tube to name but one. 
To be honest, I needed a show to fill the gap between Matt Green and the final show of the night, Greg Davies.  I expected humour (obviously) but went into the show with, perhaps, lower expectations. I don't know why, I just did.  And I'm glad I did, because those expectations were greatly exceeded, not least of all by the spectacularly fluffed final gag.

Finally, Greg Davies. An extra show too - he's a popular chap.  A jolly jaunt through the moments in his life that warrant no reasoning, things that just happened that he got enjoyment from.  It's not one of those retrospective shows with a meaning.  There is no meaning - unless you count finding something really funny to be a meaning.
On stage, Greg looked to be enjoying himself as much as the audience were - I think that's a good sign.

All in all, an utterly brilliant evening.  Just what the doctor ordered - if my doctor had ordered me to go and laugh myself silly for an evening.

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It has cost me £150 so far, but the planned line up for my Fringe funtime frenzy this year is sorted. In no particular order, I hope to have my ribs tickled by:

Shappi Khorsandi
Sarah Millican
Stephen K Amos
Henning Wehn
Matt Green
Emo Philips
Adam Hills
Storm Large
Henry Rollins
Alex Zane
Greg Davies

Sweeeeet... :)

Anything else I choose to see will likely be spur of the moment. I've done that before and haven't been disappointed. Bring. It. On.

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I'm not selling anything, just messing about with bits and pieces on the ReverbNation website. Still, it's nice to do silly things like this from time to time.

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I have been grabbed by an app on my iPhone: Project 365. It's a fun little thing whereby you take a picture on your iPhone (or otherwise if you can be arsed faffing around with other cameras, computers, etc) and load it into the project's calendar.  You're allowed one photo per day and the aim is to create a reminder of that day - an event that happened, a person you spoke to; something nice or, if you wish, horrible.

There is an option to upload the pictures to your own calendar on the Project 365 website, but since I have the ability to email them too, I've been posting them here. I've only just started, so the current photos represent an apallingly crap life just now - but the hope is that, at some point within the next year, something cool will happen that I'll remember to take a photo of and share here.

If you have an iPhone, there is a free version of the app, or the full version will set you back a massive 59p.

If I'm feeling frivolous, I might also edit the photos in the Photoshop.com Mobile app - also free. But I'm just showing off now.

Like I say, it's a bit of fun.

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I've never been an easily led person. I'm not fashionable. I don't buy every single Apple product ever created. I have never joined in with the mass hysteria that seems to be the endless array of mindless TV talent shows.

I don't read sensationalist newspapers, preferring something a little more grounded. But I do occasionally read blogs and other things pointed out to me by other folk in the webisphere.

Today I read this: BP... Methane bubbles... we're all gonna die!

In short, it suggests that the BP oil disaster in the Gulf of Mexico could end up being a catastrophic worldwide extinction event, involving giant methane bubbles - so not the sort you might unleash in your bath from time to time when you know it's safe to do so.

The most disconcerting thing about this is that, should the extinction event occur, it will probably happen (according to this report) within six months.

Forgetting all the science stuff for a bit - because I'm only marginally more scientific than I am fashionable - six months isn't long, is it?  I mean, it's too short a time to start a family for example. And as a single man, even if there was time for that sort of thing, I'd also need time to find the woman of my dreams, date a while, etc. (Well, I'm not one for rushing into having kids. I have a home already - I don't need one from the council.)

I've watched disaster films. I know that only specially selected people get to go into the secret underground military bunkers and that I'll never be one of those specially selected people. I, like the rest of civilisation, will make my way to a hill top or the coast and receive first hand experience of the devastation BP might have landed us with.

But wait. I'm forgetting something. Yes - there's always a character on the hill or at the beach holding the love of their life as the tsunami hits and the world is destroyed. They will die together, not necessarily how they might have envisaged it, but at least they will be together.

So now I'm a bit confused. I potentially have up to six months to plan an impromptu trip to the seaside, but do I actively choose to go alone or do I seek someone to share this - our final earthly experience - with?  I mean, it's pretty big. The last thing that you'd ever do on Earth. It's the sort of thing you'd want to share whilst also being something so awful that you wouldn't want to share it with anyone else because you wouldn't wish it on anyone else.

There is another aspect to this: the unpredictable nature of the extinction event. What happens if I do meet 'the one', only to discover that, on D-Day, she's working in London while I'm stuck in Glasgow?  Could I employ Jerry Bruckheimer to quickly rattle together a movie sequence where we battle the elements in a desperate bid to spend our final moments together? Or will he be too busy securing his sun lounger at his nearest beach?

It's a lot to think about. Possibly too much.

IF the methane bubbles do rise up and wipe us all off the face of the planet, whether you're single or in a perfect relationship, I propose this:

At the sounding of the alarm (howsoever that may be done), everyone should head to their nearest hill or beach, or even to the top of the office block they work in, and then join in a massive group hug.

If the people of the world are going to die together, let us do so showing the love that we so often fail to show to each other as we live together.

     

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