Edinburgh Fringe comedy review

Pear are such an established part of the Fringe now, with this, their fourth sketch show in a row, that any tweaks to their tried and tested formula feel like tinkering under the hood of a well-oiled machine. And as they admit they make so little money from the festival, they're clearly doing it for the love.

Of course, Hugo and Patrick McPherson are twins, inviting cliches about chemistry and innate mutual understanding. But it's hard to deny the reality of this witnessing the tight interplay of their interactions and songs, the smoothness of their segues and callbacks.

Identical twins can be creepy, as anyone who's seen The Shining or heard their opening number can attest. And standing a strapping 6ft 7in, it would be easy for the McPhersons to loom and intimidate, to stir anyone's panomoiotypodidymophobia if they so chose. They allude to a mysterious triplet, Emmanuel, hidden away somewhere offstage, like some mad sibling in the attic.

In practice though, the twist they've chosen this year is to invite the audience to submit examples of their own phobias, adding a bit of improv as they seek to get at the kernel of these fears and offer advice on overcoming them. Although they riff competently enough, it's not truly their metier and these sections serve as brief interludes between their pre-written material.

Much better is when they affect to give audience members free rein but playfully manipulate them, as in a Wild West sketch in which the chosen stooge can't help but fluff their sound cue, eliciting feigned frustration from the brothers.

As German border security at Gatwick Airport for no explicable reason beyond the Teutonic high camp of their accents, they cajole another volunteer into some prop-based silliness.

But there's a kinkily transgressive, sexual vibe to their own interaction, made all the more explicit in a skit in which a child interrupts their parents in a compromising position and a wartime melodrama in which a commanding officer exploits a mother's grief. With the latter coming straight after a 9/11 gag, it's a surprising but effective strain of dark humour that adds a welcome, more challenging edge to Pear's affability and crowd-pleasing inclinations.

They lose the run of a police investigation sketch somewhat, the variables of having two crowd members contributing affording it a stop-start quality. But they're good, goofy fun as South African ghost hunters, another chance to garland a routine by drawing from the vanishingly small pool of dodgy foreign accents that it's acceptable for big, beefy white guys to send up. Variations on ill-thought-out group therapy sessions recur throughout with a pleasing rhythm.

Though never the strongest part of the hour, the audience involvement fosters a sense of communal feeling in the dark, channelled into their throwaway exploration of facing fears, no doubt consolidating the fanbase for Pear's future at the festival.

• Chortle’s coverage of sketch and multi-character acts at the Edinburgh Fringe is supported by (but not influenced by) the Seven Dials Playhouse. Read more

Review date: 22 Aug 2025
Reviewed by: Jay Richardson
Reviewed at: Underbelly Cowgate