Asher Treleaven: Matador

In recent years there has been a lot of great standup written in opposition to intolerance. One needs only think of Brendon Burns's So I Suppose This Is Offensive Now, of Richard Herring's Hitler Moustache or of Paul Sinha's Extreme Anti-White Vitriol to see the examples of great political standup at the Fringe in the last five years. That said, Edinburgh has also played host to plenty of lesser comedians lazily preaching to the converted. 

Which is why Asher Treleaven's new set is such a breath of fresh air: its heart is in the right place, sure, but this isn't moralising masquerading as comedy. Indeed, it's not really trying to say anything at all. True, it may be "a post-modern comedy about racism, featuring the world's worst Spanish accent," but its main ambition is only to be silly – very silly indeed.

Treleaven's sense of fun is infectious. He's got a great face for comedy—which may be a terribly back-handed compliment—if for no other reason than his appearance seems to attract a wide array of imbeciles, offering rich fuel for his comic fire. Matador is full of great set pieces, be it Treleaven's Mary Poppins-inspired travels across the Australian outback, his drunken journey through the Singaporean jungle in only a pair of pants or his epic battle with Leighton the racist sheep. Treleaven barely puts a foot wrong and, at times, this set is masterfully daft.

After last year's well received Secret Door, Treleaven's brand of exaggerated physical campery and surrealist story-telling is developing nicely.