Brides of Comedy

Diane Spencer is often credited with being the crudest female comedy act at this year’s Edinburgh Fringe – she’s not. That dubious accolade properly belongs to Paula Williamson and Claire Jones, the comedy double act behind Brides of Comedy.

It's relentlessly, unremittingly and mercilessly filthy. From the moment the pair stumble onto stage (wiping their sick-stained mouths and clasping poo-stained pyjamas) to the closing photo-montage, a graphic mention of one bodily fluid or another is only a moment away. There is nothing inherently wrong with toilet humour – unfortunately the Brides only manage the toilet.

The leaky (in every way) premise of the play is that the pair, after spending years wedded to their comedic craft, have finally been spotted by a comedy producer.  After an absinthe-fuelled night of celebration, Paula and Claire wake up with the nagging feeling they did something terrible to the producer. Every so often the play is cut with unrelated recorded parodies of television shows. By and large these are of a better standard than the live work.

Brides is one-note comedy which drags badly over the course of an hour. The pair deserve some credit for committing to their chosen style- they do it with an admirable vim and total lack of vanity-  but their script is as loose as their, erm, bowels and there's only so much you can stand before the whole thing wears incredibly thin.