Tom Craine: Crying On A Waltzer

It's rare in standup that we get to see two sides of a story. But this year's Fringe offers precisely that opportunity, with Tom Craine and Nat Luurtsema's respective solo shows revealing how their three-year relationship curled up and died. Voyeurs and pain-parasites rejoice: this is heartbreak in stereo.

As it turns out, the double whammy is by far the most rewarding context in which to enjoy Craine's half of the narrative. Still, in isolation his self-portrait as a hapless man-boy, in free-fall after the split, is consistently entertaining. He zips along, spluttering incredulously at his inability to handle adult life, and the pathetic, endearing persona he sets up is fleshed out through punchy, well-placed anecdotes. This self-professed idiot is invariably the butt of each: the botched proposal; the ignominious move back home; a disastrous foray back into dating; and a prop-based demonstration of failing to prepare for Glastonbury.

But there's something missing. Craine is too busy stomping his ego into the dirt to give us much of a sense of why this great love fell apart – Luurtsema, still performing with him in Jigsaw, hardly features. And so ultimately, there's not much to set this apart from other break-up tales. He is too nice to come off the subject of his own failings, too honest to fabricate some closing epiphany – so the story arc rather peters out. For a richer experience, try a compare-and-contrast with his ex's hour. Craine says he hasn't seen it, but there's a stack of her flyers on the way out.