Jenny Eclair: Eclairious

Returning to the festival once again, indefatigable Fringe trooper Jenny Eclair’s latest standup show is as cosily familiar as the pink floral-print armchair awaiting her on stage. Ostensibly a shout-out for growing old disgracefully, the 53-year-old’s routine revolves around fart gags, dodgy knees and her relief at no longer having to give handjobs in bus shelters.

Actually, farting comes up a lot – along with a liberal sprinkling of the other F word. How eye-openingly hilarious you find this will depend on whether you’re amazed by the idea that a middle-aged woman might know about fisting.

Really, Eclair's trademark platinum blonde hair is the spikiest thing on offer here. Her humour boils down to dressed-up end-of-the-pier cheekiness delivered with an infectious cackle, wrapped around trashy TV shows and a few zeitgeisty references to Fifty Shades of Grey. It’s the safe side of naughty: S&M via M&S.

All the mainstays of observational comedy are in place: an errant daughter, a formidable Northern mother and a well-meaning but slow-on-the-uptake bloke at home. Each feels like a box ticked. Ultimately, Eclair’s well-honed irrepressibility and boundless energy can’t hide the fact that she’s often running on the spot material-wise. Knockabout gags about weight and the age of doctors these days are hardly boundary stretching. But Eclair's show isn’t about pushing buttons: it’s a crowd-pleaser belted out to the back row and people who love Loose Women. That might, of course, be a warning flag.