Jimmy McGhie: Delusions of Candour

Minutes into his gig Jimmy McGhie has his Portakabin rocking, aided by the presence of the mother of one of his ex-girlfriends. The gig ends on similar note with the kind of audience interaction you just can't make up, it involves a man throwing a bag of dog poo on the stage – and not as a heckle.

The content in between is essentially an extremely well-crafted collection of McGhie's club sets, each one deftly joined to the next. He starts with a roll call of his Edinburgh appearances, somewhat formulaic, but with plenty of decent anecdotes to back up the indulgence. Social media, modern Luddism, the prevalence of unsolicited opinion on the net, and porn 1990s style are the clutch of related targets that precede a section that could be titled "I don't know how to live", aiming its ire at various TV chefs and interior design gurus. The latter seam of material does tend towards some 'off-the-peg' cynicism, for example Rachel Khoo comes in for some kitchen heat about how she established her twee empire.

Fainter hearts in the audience are unmoved, but McGhie in flow can quickly turn over more fruitful analogies that have a wider audience appreciation. His performance is one that will keep the doors open for club comics at the Fringe: it flies the flag for meat and two veg observational comedy of the old school.