Nathan Cassidy: Fantastica!

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"Pseudologia fantastica" is a term applied to compulsive lying so extreme that it’s entirely disproportionate to the result the fantasist hopes to achieve. Nathan Cassidy's supposed inspiration is David Copperfield, whose Las Vegas act hoodwinks thousands into believing he’s capable of flying, earning him millions. By contrast, the likeably puckish comedian is making unbelievable claims and slanderous slurs for the relatively meagre reward of drawing modest audiences to a cold, damp cave.

A world away from the stadia he might have graced had Take That not chosen Jason Orange’s negligible singing talent over his arthritic headspins, the erstwhile Marc Almond impersonator explores rumour, conspiracy and super-injunctions, his desire for a showbusiness break and to continue feeding his children casting his boldest claims into doubt. Nevertheless, tiny details suggest maybe, just maybe, these tales could be true – perhaps Nick Park is a plasticine-manipulating pervert and Paddy McGuinness is a talentless coattail surfer.

As befits a show about half-truths there’s a lack of coherence and the limitless scope of lying affords Cassidy a capacity to spout any old rubbish and consider it material. Still, the unevenness of tone works in his favour, reaching a grim nadir when he speaks of a friend so emotionally invested in a massive human tragedy he has a favourite piece of news footage.

A conman’s gamble, Fantastica! mostly engages. And its final, five-second piss-take could be amongst the most astonishing, tear-inducing sights at the Fringe. Even if the tears largely belong to Cassidy.