It's Lucy Porter's 11th solo Fringe show, and if that doesn't give her at least minimal bragging rights then we really have lost our way. There's at least two ways of taking this. The first is to swallow the idea that 'with great power comes great responsibility'. It follows, then, that as a Fringe icon Porter has a responsibility to hit a home run year after year. The second is to suggest that Porter has got so far doing what she does for so long because she's a skilled and seasoned stalwart. The second seems fairer – and much more fits the facts.
This is perhaps a too-tortured way of saying you shouldn't expect whizzy formal experiments or artsy musings from a Porter. This is much more a stand-up-and-tell-'em affair. Porter ekes stories and scenarios from the stuff of everyday life. And she packages them well, with an easy-going delivery and enough courtesy towards her audience to ensure they are peppered with giggles throughout. Technically she's a pro and, particularly, she does a lovely job of ending stories when they've done their work. A deft lick of a line sends them off and out round unexpected corners. This isn't testing, trying, tricksy comedy for a make-it-new audience. It's stories told confidently and well. Respect.