Dan Nightingale: Geronimo

With a boyish gleam in his eyes, Dan Nightingale takes to the stage. He's a Lancastrian, although you can hardly tell from the accent. Cheeky smile, relaxed, friendly – he's ticking all the boxes. It's a small room at the Smirnoff Underbelly, a little dark, a little damp.

Although he's cut his teeth on the Northern comedy circuit, this is Nightingale's first Fringe performance. His flyering team have clearly been braving the weather, because he has drawn a pretty decent crowd. Despite his claims to be nervous there's a glint in his eye. Soon, you find out why: he's pretty damn funny.

There's nothing particularly controversial here, no taboos being broken, no savage put-downs. Nightingale doesn't have an axe to grind or an agenda to deliver. What he does have is a lot of charisma. He leaves the microphone in the stand, using both hands to wildly animate his act. When he frequently wanders away from it his voice carries so well in the echoing cavern that you can't really tell.

Lightly slating Geordies, his girlfriend and other Fringe comedians, what you get here is comedy popcorn, but tasty nonetheless. Granted the act took a little while to wind up, and the 'climactic' ending clearly didn't hit with the force Nightingale intended. But his experience and personality carried the audience through the choppy waters to the stronger parts of the act which more than justified the admission fee. You won't be challenged, offended or enlightened, but that's okay. He's solid enough, and worth an evening of your time.