Chris Cox: Fatal Distraction

Chris Cox is yet another of those ubiquitous, nerdily handsome young acts, the type built for TV and plastered all over Edinburgh. He is a mind-reader but, he insists, with a bit of edge about him. Think more Derren Brown than Uri Geller.

Cox's problem, though, is that he isn't much of a comedian. Whether it's his rather wet delivery or his boyish over-enthusiasm, he just isn't really very funny. This wouldn't necessarily be a huge problem were the quality of his mind-reading tricks maintained at a high standard throughout. But, unfortunately, the show is let down somewhat by an overlong mid-section display which appears to consist largely of statistically informed guesswork of which at least 30 per cent is a bit off.

That said, there are moments which are genuinely impressive. In particular, one is filled with a childish sense of awe watching Cox, accurately and in real-time, blindly recreate the drawings of three audience participants. But most impressive of all, and without wanting to give the game away, the final showstopping moment is a remarkable experience.

There is a poignancy about Fatal Distraction that makes it very hard not to like. The central narrative theme running throughout manages to be affecting without feeling twee, and in many respects grounds a show which could otherwise feel rather aimless and disjointed.