Gemma Goggin: Double G

The goal of Double G, says Gemma Goggin, is to explore "the agony and ecstasy of the female breast". That may sound lofty, but in reality the Birmingham comedian's latest Fringe show squanders most of its hour on cheap gags and bland gender-difference humour.

A hefty portion of the show is devoted to a pseudo-academic presentation on the evolutionary history of the breast, but while Goggin's delivery is solid the lecture lacks any real laughs. Double G quickly gives in to lazy voyeurism: a drawn-out discussion of bizarre fetishes (example: formicophilia, a sexual obsession with ants) is closely followed by a photographic rundown of the world's most gargantuan breasts. The problem with this is that both segments draw their laughs because of a Channel 5-ish freakshow sensibility, rather than from any particular comedic flair on Goggin's part.

Goggin herself seems ambivalent on her central subject: one minute she's lavishing fulsome praise upon the breast, but then in almost the same breath she reverts to the hackneyed lament of a long-suffering boob-bearer. A compulsive oversharer, she sprinkles the show with asides delving into her own sexual pecadilloes, but these inspire only nervous laughter from tonight's 15-strong audience. For the most part, Double G is a series of chuckles and half-laughs at predictable punchlines and bland attempts to shock. By the time Ann Widdecome makes an unwelcome entry into proceedings, one can't help but feel it's all gone tits-up.