Mark Watson's Edinborolympics

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On the off chance you'd always wanted to see comedians make free-standing loo-roll towers, Mark Watson's Edinborolympics fills that gap in the market. The performers compete in pseudo-athletic events in a bid to be crowned champion. Who can wear the most items of clothing? Who can eat crackers in a sleeping bag? Who really cares? 

The eponymous compere is joined by a different cast each night, here comprised of Shappi Khorsandi, John Robertson and David O'Doherty (who fills in for Nick Helm until he eventually arrives). Watson himself is not the problem (he ably hosts and interjects with timely wit), and neither are the performers. It's the creatively-void format that's at fault.

With the plethora of star names, they were probably right in thinking it's too big to fail, commercially at least. It's also far too lazy to succeed. There's virtually no artistic intention here; it's essentially no more than an advert for the contestants' respective shows. There's no emotional stake to proceedings because the rules aren't exactly observed, but there's nothing in the way of comic material either. It's just cynically assembled silliness. 

It feels as though it's the comedians on stage having all the fun, not the audience, and it all amounts to so much less than the sum of its parts. They collectively flatter to deceive, not aided by the sense that the whole show is cobbled together on a whim. Farce can be funny when done right, but here it's in service of a show that falls at the first hurdle.