Craig Hill: Jock's Trap

It must be pretty galling as a young comedian, risking everything to bust a gut at the largest festival of arts in the world, to see Craig Hill filling big venues night after night after night. Self-professed ringmaster of "the poofiest show" at the Fringe, Hill is blessed with audiences who hang on his every word. And to audiences most comics couldn't dream of, night after night, he delivers the most complacent hour of stand up going.

So, Hill draws confidently and repeatedly from his tried and tested box of tricks. Ostensibly, this involves asking audience members where they are from, making a derogatory remark about the location, then optionally following this up with a catty remark about the respondent ("I see you came dressed as a cleaner tonight"). It's all very friendly stuff, and he is an undoubtedly slick performer, whose unparalleled ability to build rapport with an audience is by far his strongest suit. But, at times, even chinks in that red leather armour appear. A man from Australia tells him Perth is "a boring hellhole," yet Hill ploughs on regardless with his 10 minutes on how chirpy Australians are.

"Sometimes it just comes out of my mooth!" he protests, after deriding a head of un-conditioned hair. He's not wrong: Hill could do about 50 minutes of tonight's set on autopilot.But, ultimately none of this matters. Craig Hill has something money can't buy: enough charisma to fill Bristo Square and beyond. And, damnit, that sells.