Alexis Dubus: Cars and Girls

While it's common enough for a Fringe success to return the following year basically unaltered, a show which really evolves during its absence is relatively rare. Few comedians are prepared to tamper with what seems like a winning formula.

Nevertheless, since he last presented Cars and Girls in Edinburgh, Alexis Dubus has significantly revised his autobiographical reverie on roads and romance. It is a reinvention that is entirely for the better. What was once a perfectly charming if slightly underwhelming collection of anecdotes tied by a common theme is now a tight hour of breathlessly verbose comedy. Not incidentally, all of it is now in rhyme.

This impressive and unexpected development lends an almost poetic momentum to Dubus's performance, which gives his wry, heartfelt recollections of youthful world travel an appropriate high-speed energy. The two central stories, which remain from the show's previous incarnation, remain both engaging and often hilarious. As a student, Dubus hitches across Europe to Morocco in the company of his then-girlfriend and a series of friendly but increasingly addled truck drivers. Later in life, following a broken heart, he rides through the desert to Burning Man for an accident-prone but life-affirming experience.

Dubus's storytelling is colourful yet conversational, replete with intriguing detail and delivered in a smirking, self-deprecating deadpan that never loses the audience's sympathy or investment. In a city of one-liners, Dubus easily defends the honour of the comedic monologue. The only question is: what might the show turn into next?