Rhys Nicholson: Dawn of a New Error

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The Fringe has no shortage of gay standups but despite some rough edges, Rhys Nicholson stands out in this, his Edinburgh debut. Nicholson's cum 'n' cocks material is familar LGBT comedy fare but his sparkling wordplay, his cutting, incisive take-downs of homophobia and the fact that it's coming from someone so young do add a certain freshness to it. Nicholson also blends it creatively with darker themes, seguing wonderfully from his struggle with bulimia nervosa to his consequent inability to perform fellatio.

Despite looking like Child's Play's Chucky after an explosion in Topman, Nicholson is extremely likeable and his spectacular crudeness tinged with whimsy only endears him to us further. For the most part he holds the stage well but at times he veers into unnecessary nervousness, apologising for some of his jokes and referring to the emptiness of the room. Still, he rises to the difficult task of holding the modest crowd in the palm of his hand.

Perhaps in Australia—a nation often mocked for less-than-progressive social attitudes—Nicholson's chav-bashing is bang on the zeitgeist, but in Owen Jones's post-Vicki Pollard Britain, it feels distinctly passé and just a touch offensive. Perhaps Nicholson should have done a bit more research on the country he was coming to. Similarly, references to his backwater upbringing in Newcastle, New South Wales, scream out in vain for comparisons with Newcastle upon Tyne. Nonetheless, this is uncharacteristic of the rest of the show, in which plenty of cerebral humour is expertly and pleasingly secreted amidst the filth.