Dayne Rathbone: It's Me Dayne

Unsettling anticomedy taken to the extreme, this show is emphatically not for everyone. Dayne Rathbone is our host for the night, a boyish creep who layers on the darkness thick and fast. We’re treated to some details of his strange life through several poems, many of which include terrific lines that hit hard, most of which can barely be finished, so rapturous is the audience at his awkward delivery.  

Judgement here requires context; if you haven’t got the stomach for dark humour, you might find this upsetting. Without wanting to spoil the ending, there’s a truly shocking finale in which he crosses the line between awkward and out-and-out indecent, invading the audience’s personal space in a way that honestly ought not to be allowed.

On the other hand, if you like your comedy dangerous, you’ll no doubt appreciate the sacrifice he makes for his art. Audience interaction is a key element of this show, used to great effect to elicit big laughs and to stretch the edginess.

Considered within this genre, if there’s such a thing as hack anticomedy, then he is certainly guilty in parts. Rape, cancer and death are dished out as punchlines with inevitable frequency, along with an unnerving tone of sexual perversion.

The result is a heady mixture of hilarious and terrifying. Acts like Rathbone are what make the Fringe such a vibrant and curious place and his bravery as a performer really is astounding. But you’ll probably be relieved when the whole thing is over.