WE HAD one of those laughers in yesterday. Front row. Female. Seemingly respectable. Until the first sketch. Imagine, if you will, the sound of a pregnant seal dry-humping a fog-horn while being hand-wrung through a creaky mangle, and you're more or less there. We're not stand- ups, so negotiating sketches around the aural bomb-site that was this woman's guffaw proved a joyously tricky manoeuvre. In the end, I attacked her with a broom in the black-out. Short of pouring boiling water on her or putting down pellets it's the only surefire way.
Our first insane laugher is a true sign that the festival has really kicked off. Every show becomes a microcosm of the whole festival: pain, stress, laughter, blood, sweat, gravy, egg and tears. It's ground-in dirt. Coincidences? Tubbs, the behemoth of our triumvirate, is currently the star of Flora margarine's new campaign and ended up on stage assisting the Korean axe-wielders in Cookin' at the Assembly Rooms. Andrew, our cuddly Number Two, is featured in Alex Lowe's wonderful True Adventures of Radio 1 during the Zoe Ball breakfast takeover. And me? Last year our show was called Charged and Sentenced. Last night, I was thrown out of the Traverse Theatre for "borrowing" a rather cheeky Mitchelton '97 from the wine cellar. Got to laugh though, haven't you. Which reminds me: Perrier are in today. Seal-woman, where are you?
Pleasance, Venue 33, 3.45pm, to 30 AugReuse content