Ian Cognito: Trouble with Comedy

Bolstering the burgeoning theory that the free Fringes offer a flavour of how Edinburgh used to be, Ian Cognito is finally back in town, like a disgraced old gunslinger. Coggers—as he’s known to those on the circuit still talking to him—is an act that promoters love to trade juicy anecdotes about, but tend not to actually book these days, just in case.

“It’s because I’m dangerous!” he barks at one lad in the front row here, having leapt onto his chair, almost toppled over but carried on regardless while being prodded upright by the folks most concerned that his tankard of ale will spill all over them. Much of it does anyway, plus lashings of spittle and sweat. It’s not the seat to choose if you’re dolled up for a night out, but then watching Coggers perform is pretty intense however safely ensconced you think you might be. Having been banned from numerous clubs, he likes to make the most of a room.

Both the material and his manner are a boot in the face to safety-first promoters: more profanity than you’d hear on the nightbus home, via old-school gags that veer from wonderfully insightful to wince-inducing. But then he takes on so many taboo targets, by the end you’d be offended if you’d been left out.

This is controlled anarchy from Cognito. It’s a well-paced set with a coherent theme—his messy life—and even some decent songs to lighten the mood. An old master at work.