Daniel Kitson - Something, Venue 33: Pleasance Over The Road, Edinburgh

All-conquering nerd defies appearances

You might assume that anyone who claims to look like a paedophile is on to a loser, but not Daniel Kitson. Since last year's Perrier nomination, the 25-year-old has honed his skills to perfection. He has created the ultimate stage persona, the über-nerd with a sting in his tail. Expertly manipulating the audience's sympathies, this is a man who can do cocky and crushed in the blink of an eye.

Kitson's show contains reflections on the nature of friendship and true love. Along the way, the comic gets to air his views on all manner of subjects from sex and swearing to his distrust of clubbers, taxi drivers and cannabis smokers. He tells us how life has changed since last year, how he's been sucked into a vortex of interviews, photo-opportunities and inappropriate advertising promotions.

He's even cleaned up his appearance. Well, sort of. The beard and long hair are gone but the thick-rimmed specs are still there, magnifying his eyes to alarming proportions. "My life is exactly as my appearance would have you believe," he says, adding: "Though I probably don't masturbate as much as you think."

He's an acutely physical performer, carving shapes out of the air and holding imaginary conversations with a broad cast of characters. He pictures arriving at the wrong party and finds himself playing Pass-the-Parcel with a bunch of eight-year-olds. Given his earlier comments about child-molesting, you have to suppress the urge to call the police.

As in last year's show Love, Innocence And The Word Cock, where Kitson considered his difficult passage from childhood to adulthood, Something is shot through with melancholy. The show opens with a short film showing a girl going out to a club by herself. There are no laughs to be had here; it takes a confident comic to start a show on such a gloomy footing. But, as Kitson tells us, he wants his show to be "as fragile and tender as the 'You and Me Song' by the Wannadies, and yet as innately funny as a pigeon walking".

Punch lines aren't his thing. Instead Kitson takes an idea and bends it every which way. His observations may be universal ones but they're pin-sharp and related with a palpable sense of astonishment. This preternaturally gifted stand-up brings a freshness and a formidable intelligence to his art. You'll struggle to find another comic on the Fringe who can do better.

21.45 (ends 22.45), to 28 August (0131-556 6550)