Thünderbards

Introducing their sketches as if they were cautionary tales, imparted from a book, Thünderbards have hit upon a simple but effective framing device for their consistently funny tomfoolery. Between the skits, Matthew Stevens is the dafter of the two, obsessed with performing something called The Bears Upstairs, while Glenn Moore is the more tightly wound, ostensibly in charge, routinely admonishing his colleague.

Once the tales begin that remains the trend, but the diversity of their characters means there's greater criss-crossing in terms of straight man and buffoon. Forever breaking the fourth wall, their frequent cackhandedness in delivering their vignettes adds an additional layer of mirth to an already impressive Fringe debut. Their opening sketches, with a proud father arriving at the maternity ward and two lovers undergoing a protracted, painful break-up, have a similar type of punchline. But they're studded with lots of nice lines and they mix it up as the hour progresses, with a sense of when to let a scene finish abruptly, when to add topper gags or when to let it fizzle out to their own embarrassment.

There's the odd one-line quickie, invariably disguised. But often they take their scenarios into unexpected places, some more worthwhile than others. One, on the evolution of the Sound of Music songbook is great fun, Moore apoplectic with rage at the nonsense Stevens is seemingly improvising. Another, featuring a checkout assistant being asked on a date is a perfect joke with no fat on it whatsoever.