Alun Cochrane: (Me Neither)

It can be difficult to ascertain what Alun Cochrane's doing at the Fringe. Here, after all, is an established standup who's becoming less of a fixture on television panel shows yet is safely ensconced as Frank Skinner's sidekick on Absolute Radio. His droll, relaxed style doesn't suit Mock The Week so much as it would suit Mock The Quarterly he suggests. So it can't be about the exposure. As a club comic, he remains in the first rank but his delight in simple pleasures and laid-back insouciance really stick out at a festival brimming over with ego and ambition.

What's more, he hasn't written a show so much as strung together a series of amusing anecdotes and observations on universalities, content just to plough his assured furrow of being a mildly-challenged family man. Clearly, a prime time slot at the Stand is not to be sniffed at financially. But I was perversely delighted by the heckler who got the wrong end of the stick on one of his routines, ascribing maliciousness where none was to be found, as it startled the Yorkshireman out of his groove, forcing him to put her down in patient but no uncertain terms.

Thereafter, the show always carried a bit of an edge, with mildly contentious thoughts on the differences between men and women acquiring importance beyond their wry reflection. Cochrane is always compelling when he's being prickly or contrary, even to the extent of persuasively defending David Cameron against charges of not knowing the cost of a price of a pint of milk.