Original Review:

Show Rating:

Ben Bailey faced an uphill struggle on the sluggish penultimate night of the festival, battling against an audience enjoying his smart, dry act ­ but making no effort to convey it.

It was a mood he was uncomfortable confronting, unsure whether to plough on with the tried-and-tested routines regardless, or banter awhile, making mention of the quiet and so drawing even more attention to it.

This laconic American tried both approaches in equal measure, and eventually succeeded in eliciting some response, even if it was the cost of dropping some material from his hour.

Which is a shame, because what we did hear was perfectly crafted stuff. The theatricality of the delivery, with deliberate, timed pauses between each line wasn't the most conducive to getting laughs from an unprimed audience, especially as he launched straight into it without even a 'hello' of warm-up, but it does serve to underline the quality of the lines.

His forte is to take what might be thought an unadventurous subject, such as the inherent inanity in some figure of speech or another, and deconstruct it to the nth degree, bit by bit chiselling away at its logic, leaving no comic stone unturned.

It's impressively effective, with phrases you will never hear again without seeing his stern face unflinchingly mocking it.

There are other stories, too, on topics which might not look much - Edinburgh's incessant rain, or the etiquette of gym locker rooms, or the stupid things we all say and do ­ but it's the thoroughness with which he nails the topic that's so impressive.

This splendid stuff be better suited to the clubs than festival audiences who tend to prefer themes or theatricality with their stand-up, but for a near-faultless parade of precise, well-observed material, you can't get much better. Shame we didn't get to hear more of it.