The characters brought to life by Willbond and his co-stars, Jim Field Smith and Katy Brand, are fantastically funny. Each one is fully formed with their own verbal peculiarities, questionable motives and occasional forays into insanity. In front of a bare stage, the entire focus is on the characters – the only props to be seen are a lab coat, a chair, a Russian pistol, 2 grey wigs and a pair of dodgy Miami Vice style shades. All this is tied together with a clever narrative which draws the audience even further into the wacky, though strangely familiar, world which the characters inhabit.

This show was a hilarious and highly efficient way of using 3 comedians and 1 hour of time at the Fringe. Which only leaves me with one nagging question…. does Patrick Stewart really cost the same as a spaceship???

And once you’ve been through the fire of that with Burke, you’re more than happy to join him as he works his way around the audience, and around the world at the same time. Not having a strict script of a plot to follow, Burke can simply let his natural instinct drive the show forward, which he does with a skill that’s almost impossible to see. It helps that he see the humour in almost everything. For example, a roundabout in Johannesburg, go on, work with that and get a laugh.

Confident, quick-witted, and genuinely funny, Burke deserves to sell out every night.

With deadpan delivery Aisle 16 storm through the history of poetry, modernising, abbreviating and injecting their own boyband slang along the way. The result is certainly ‘edutaining’: a delightful mixture of academic humour and scorn for the triteness of popular culture, performed at a pace, and punctuated by the groups own lyrical improvisations.

As much as this group mock the literary world it is clear that they were paying attention in class: jokes on Roland Barthes are few and far between in comedy school. The attention to detail and intelligence behind this show marks it out as something different and entirely worthy of a Fringegoer’s money and attention. The idea that this is a seminar is never deviated from, as the use of slides and hilarious lecture handout testify.

Aisle 16 are confident and have tapped into a vehicle for their humour which compliments them. In ‘Poetry Boyband’ they present a faultless comic performance which shows originality, flair and vast potential as a formula for future Festival successes.

Who: Aisle 16: Poetry Boyband
Where: Pleasance Courtyard
When: 16:40-17:40; 3rd-29th August (except 15th)

His mockery of musicians great and small is brilliantly masked by a wry smile and throwaway style. “Great times, great times” he rhapsodizes after sending up late-90s pop quartet All Saints. It is this rose-tinted irony which makes the show, as it becomes impossible not to agree with Deering’s ridicule – he leaves you no other option.

Responding to song requests from the audience as deftly as the best DJ, Deering turns this into an intimate and undeniably crowd pleasing show. He is at ease on stage and with his public, as he quite literally riffs back and forth with his audience. It is clear that next to comedy, music is Deering’s greatest passion. His excitement as he relives the music of his adolescence is palpable - and infectious.

The show quickly turns into a collective nostalgia trip and so Deering effortlessly wins over his happily obliging crowd. All that remains is for a group sing-a-long and with an improvised song about arseholes, Deering brings his whirlwind tour of five decades in music to a rousing close.

This show is not just for music aficionados; it plays upon the ties between popular music and personal memories. Deering gives voice to everything you’d always thought about music – even if you didn’t know you were thinking it at the time. By tapping into the audience’s and his generations communal critic Deering delivers an side-splitting routine for everyone involved.

Who: Rob Deering – 12 Inch
Where: Smirnoff Underbelly
When: 22:10-23:10; 4th – 28th August (except 16th)

At the end of the day, Hill’s material is incredibly predictable. He’s simply himself on stage, a bitchy camp twenty-something chatting to you as if he’s putting the blue rinse through your locks. Except the bleaching days are over, and he’s a man of the stage, always looking to put on a performance.

If Hill is your cup of tea, then this is going to go down a treat. If you’ve caught him before and he left you non-plussed, then best avoid him and move on to someone else. Never seen him before? He’s a confident performer, and the show delivers the laughs, but it’s nothing different to his 5 minute slots on TV (just longer). Craig Hill is a safe bet at the Fringe, but there’s nothing to make him stand out. Apart from possibly the black leather kilt.

The strength of this performance lies not only in the equally capable cast, but also in the intelligent and often absurdist humour of the script. Written by Spectator contributor Richard Kelly, it offers an excitingly quirky take on tried-and-tested comic scenarios, such as funeral parlours, football pundits and the Eurovision song Contest.

Particular highlights are the rendition of Blondie’s ‘Hanging on the Telephone’ adapted to address the modern day phenomenon and nuisance that is cold calling; and an insight into the mind of a round-robin writer, with an outstandingly deadpan delivery from cast member Caroline Major.

‘Not the Footlights’ is an apt title for a company who rely on their own talent rather than the received reputation of performances gone by. Compared to my last viewing of the Cambridge troupe I can confirm that this production is certainly ‘Not the Footlights’: it is in fact edgier, slicker and more importantly funnier that their contemporaries have proved to be in recent Festivals.

Who: Northern Youth Theatre: Not the Footlights
Where: Sweet on the Grassmarket
When: 11:45 -12:30; 8th-20th August (except 14th)

Within the show the three comics take on roles as teachers playing ‘good cop, bad cop’ with a primary school troublemaker; war veterans reciting inappropriate limericks, and a chat-line lover for a lonely housewife. Each scenario is so different from the last that the audience is kept guessing as to where the next laugh will come from, and are handsomely rewarded for their efforts.

The show’s humour is just dark enough to appeal to the seasoned Fringe goer and varied enough to engage the attention and amusement of a newcomer. This is comedy which does not portend to be something it is not. It is light entertainment, simply packaged and aimed to gain laughs, but with enough extra to give it the edge on other sketch shows.

Who: The Lost and Lonely Rebels
Where: Smirnoff Underbelly
When: 16:20-17:15; 4th-28th August (except 15th & 22nd)

“Do you have a script? Because this is getting tiring.”

Reminding us that this would not be a show of her father’s comedy, Rain Pryor’s warning was only too apparent as she lost her train of thought and struggled to fill the ensuing silence as her father would easily have done.

Scripting issues aside Pryor’s first Fringe nerves began to fade as she confidently recreated the highs and lows of her life as the black and Jewish daughter of late comedy giant Richard Pryor. Unfortunately, for much of the show there was a sense that ‘you just had to be there’ to find the situations relived amusing. As interesting as an insight into her childhood is, this show was not billed as ‘An Audience with Rain Pryor’ but rather a stand-up show, and the audience were left wondering as to whether there was sufficient fodder to meet this end.

Pryor’s character comedy was perhaps the strongest element of the show as she brought to life some of the most influential people in her life, in particular her black militant mother trapped in a white Jewish woman’s body. Most successful were the words in Pryor’s stories which related childhood experiences common to all – teasing at school, sneaking out of the house on a Friday night. These moments helped Pryor to recover from dismal turns such as an extended cheerleading song, in the face of which a bemused crowd sheepishly participated.

In the opening lines of her show Pryor gave warning to those that had come to see a replication of her father: “Perhaps you should go out and buy one of his DVDs. That way you won’t be disappointed.” Unfortunately on the back of her performance this can only be seen as wise advice.

Who: The Parker Entertainment Company: Rain Pryor – Fried Chicken and Latkes
Where: Smirnoff Baby Belly
When: 20:00-20:55; 4th-28th August (except 15th)

Not the most obvious choice for a stand-up show, but Buxton knows how to play to his strengths. Pavel’s alcohol induced hallucinations undoubtedly recall The Adam and Joe show and are a good reminder to Channel Four executives of what they are missing. Buxton’s (and perhaps the general public’s) view on the schedule is made even clearer by Pavel’s animation ‘Tiny TV Boss’: a baby who barks, ‘Give me more Jimmy Carr!’

Animations and film clips intersperse Pavel’s anecdotal ranting and give the audience an opportunity to relax. Pavel’s frequent tirades against laughter leave you unsure as to whether laughing is allowed – perhaps it is outlawed here as well as in Pavel’s homeland. But the more Pavel tries to deny humour the funnier he is, and the harder the audience will find it to resist.

If it’s straightforward stand-up you are after don’t come here. This is developed character comedy – Buxton is Pavel, from the beard it has taken him months to grow in preparation to the heavily intoned accent. But if you do end up here don’t be afraid to laugh; you’ll find it very hard not to.

Imagine a beat poet reading in a steady tone of voice, measured against a metronome set up for a dirge… who’s just finished a truckload of cannabis. In his own words, Anton is attempting to push the audience, to see how far he can take them

It’s certainly different, and far away from the regular comedy you would expect at the Fringe. It’s much more performance theatre than out and out laughs, if memory serves there wasn’t a single traditional scripted joke throughout Pick’s act. Probably the hardest thing to cope with is when Pick has to interact with the audience. The very measured tones that are employed in the show isn’t maintained when asking about someone else’s cat. After focusing so hard to get in the right place for the monologue, to be pulled out with a different tone of voice makes it even harder to get your head back into appreciating the scripted areas.

There’s a good character performance in here, but it’s not quite the finished product. Anton Pick is in town for nine nights only (until this Saturday), so if you’re looking for something more than just someone telling jokes in a cellar somewhere, he might be worth thinking about - but be warned it’s not going to be to every tastes.

The great thing about Vine’s routine is you know you are going to laugh at this show - I doubt a single person would be able to sit for the entire hour and not raise a titter. I also doubt a single person would be able to last the hour without letting out an almighty groan of pain, because if there’s one thing Vine can do well, it’s take an excruciatingly bad bit of word play and strangle a laugh out of it. For example “LIZARD…Lizard… lizard… Is there a Gecko in here?” Now imagine an entire hour of this.

Throw in a few musical numbers to give everyone a chance to breath as they desperately try to get to the punch line in their head before Vine does (Don’t bother, it’ll be so left field you’ll never see the obvious coming), and you have a masterful comic assault on the senses. The great thing is that there are so many jokes flowing that if you don’t like one, another should be along in about ten seconds. While he’s never going to be a stand out stand up act with gravitas and pathos to balance the humour, Tim Vine is a worthy stop on any Fringe nights out.

Thank god there’s only one Tim Vine. I’m glad the world has him, but the last thing I could cope with is Mrs Vine having twins.