Michael J Dolan

He’s still a relatively new act –he was a semi-finalist in this year’s Radio 2 New Comedy Awards –yet he displays a remarkable maturity in his writing. There are, admittedly, parts of his debut hour that could do with ‘gagging up’ a bit, but you still listen to every word of his densely-argued and strongly-held opinions. The world-weary attitude itself is inherently funny – either because you’re in agreement with every word, or because you’re not and you can laugh at his self-imposed intolerance.

There’s usually an elegance in the language he uses to express his tart views describing beautifully how every conversation feels like a repeat; how everything from quantum physics to philosophy is useless, or how his life has been reduced to cleaning up after his pet. Moaning about feral youths drunkenly prowling Britain’s streets of a weekend night in a common theme in comedy, but Dolan is so descriptive, you can almost smell the WKD-coloured vomit.

Somehow, despite all this, he claims to have a childish spirit – which, if true, must have made him one of the least cheerful kids in kindergarten. Yet somehow he squares this, offering more than just relentless, if witty, gloom.

But there’s one thing Dolan has no right to be down about, and it’s this impressive calling-card of a show, firmly establishing himself as a welcome addition to the circuit and to the Fringe.