Scott Agnew: I've Snapped My Banjo String, Let's Just Talk

This isn't a show about mishaps in the world of country and western music, let's put it that way. Scott Agnew uses his hour to tackle sex, pain, homophobia and of course the eponymous incident that covers all three at once.

It's been four years since his last Fringe show, and the former Scottish Comedian of the Year has dialled up the debauchery. Despite making things increasingly puerile, he has matured as a comedian and a storyteller. It's still the same tales of drunken gay orgies and the like, but now with the revelation that he is HIV positive there's an added emotional weight to it all. He's not sombre or regretful, but he does thread an undercurrent of self-reflection through his material.

He can be his own worst enemy in delivering his jokes, though, stumbling and spluttering over his own words while snickering at them before anyone in the audience has a chance to. It makes for a constant stream of hoarse chuckling, which has a tendency to undermine the flow of his anecdotes.

It's not for the faint-hearted—those brilliant descriptive powers are put to good use conjuring up that eponymous genital injury—but it's equally not for the cold-hearted: there are some pretty affecting personal disclosures towards the end. He's wryly funny, but just a little too reliant on gross-out sex jokes to anchor the serious stuff in any grounded sentiment.