Edinburgh Fringe comedy reviews: Sam Nicoresti: Baby Doomer | Caroline McEvoy: Train Man | Sam Williams: Touch Me Not | Fisherman Jon: What's on the End of My Rod? A Clown Odyssey | Peter Buckley Hill and Some Comedians

Sam Nicoresti: Baby Doomer

Pleasance Courtyard (Bunker Two) (Venue 33) until 24 August

★★★★☆

Sam Nicoresti's evolution as a stand up has been inextricably bound up with their journey as a trans person. And very specifically in this show with their quest to find the perfect two-piece skirt suit. A mortifying experience in the changing rooms of a high street clothing retailer – during a Pride march no less – could be seen as symbolic of the culture wars. And it unquestionably is at a superficial level. But Nicoresti focuses on the very personal fallout of the tale: the humiliation and novelty of the scenario, those fundamental bedrocks of good anecdotal humour.

Blessed with an interrogative intelligence and self-lacerating streak, they're living at the vanguard of social upheaval, just scrambling to be themselves with audiences the beneficiaries. No shrinking violet exactly, fond of tossing out a challenging aphorism such as “all kink is autistic” or observations like the trans community being inherently drawn to magic, then winning you round to their point of view, Nicoresti nevertheless radiates fragility and insecurity. Any big laughs they elicit, and there are many, feel like bigger affirmations of self.

There's trauma, certainly, though Nicoresti is bleakly, hilariously forced to confront the reality that their flavour of PTSD may not be quite of the same strength or vintage as those of others. Related in characteristic asides, their parental support network is ambivalent at best. And the episode of their sperm donation is an eye-opening account of what some people have to go through in order to sustain the possibility of a family. With a lovely, precise turn of phrase and an extreme insider-outsider perspective in such ultra cisnormative environments as the gym, Nicoresti remains a highly distinctive act who doesn't seem to have peaked quite yet, with a long way to seemingly go in every respect.

JAY RICHARDSON

COMEDY

Caroline McEvoy: Train Man

Assembly Roxy (Venue 139) until 25 August

★★★☆☆

Caroline McEvoy's impressive Fringe debut draws its title from the YouTube channel and abiding obsession of her younger brother, one of the most important shapers of her identity. Jonathan is profoundly autistic. And her family's adaptation to his needs has massively impacted the London-based Northern Irish stand up's upbringing and present circumstances, while likely dictating her future.

As the big sister charged with additional responsibilities, McEvoy nurtures some lingering resentments. But she's simply outgunned in the war of sibling rivalry thrust upon her, with the more consequential conflict of sectarian Ireland a backdrop that she archly and tonally astutely weaves into their story. Disney films are another recurring metaphor that she leans on, contrasting their optimistic sentiments with her own, somewhat more jaded perspective.

She doesn't lay all of her issues at her brother's door though, with her teenage sexual awakening a confusion entirely of her own experimentation, though girls-only education unquestionably played a part. Keeping it light and entertaining for the most part, the self-mocking McEvoy is alive to her own foibles. But she fully conveys the magnitude of Jonathan's challenges, not just in his endearing, atypical quirks but also the ways in which society fails their family.

JAY RICHARDSON

COMEDY

Sam Williams: Touch Me Not

Pleasance Courtyard (Venue 33) until 25 August

★★★☆☆

Such is the idiosyncrasy of Sam Williams' first full-length Fringe show, that the stand up's claims of scratching a living eating cat food for marketing purposes and to be dating an Olympic champion, facilitated in an online netherworld that maybe has some overlap with the real, physical realm, aren't the most remarkable aspects of his debut.

If all had gone to plan, the garrulous comic would be in a French monastery right now he maintains, having undertaken a vow of silence. Truly, God moves in mysterious ways. Because as a proudly sex-positive and articulate bisexual, Williams seems an unlikely adherent to the Christian faith. With two queer brothers, and parents who run the gamut from evidence-based rational thinking to hallucinogen-induced mysticism, Williams is that most scallywag of rogues, the charismatically Byronic storyteller with an exposed belly of vulnerability and overarching need to belong.

As a lost soul, evoking the parable of The Prodigal Son through the clumsily cringe retelling of Rob Lacey's Street Bible, the text rendered in grasping yoof speak, this is a real curate's egg of an hour. Williams seems open, intelligent and painfully self-conscious. But his naked admission of embellishing his story somewhat undermines the spiritual epiphany, not least as he can't help getting a little too serious in his conclusion.

JAY RICHARDSON

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COMEDY

Fisherman Jon: What's on the End of My Rod? A Clown Odyssey

Underbelly, Bristo Square (Venue 302) until 25 August

★★★☆☆

A fishy tale to be sure, Coral Bevan's drag clown show has a mythic quality that belies its modest staging. Alone on his boat, endlessly polishing his rod to a gleaming shine, grizzled old sea dog Jon chatters away to himself and casts into the ocean, taking a more than famished interest in what he might catch. To the calming lapping of the waves, What's on the End of My Rod? opens as a gently beguiling character comedy hour, as the wild-eyed, mostly toothless mariner baits and swims amongst the crowd.

After reeling in a beauty however, the show takes a starboard lurch for the surreal and becomes epically Homerian, with the storm-tossed angler doggedly clinging to survival, a dream of love and resisting sirens' call. With the grotesquely made-up, utterly unrecognisable Bevan portraying both Jon and his screeching nemesis, the slippery characterisation plays with gender and even species specificity. You wouldn't call it particularly challenging or radical, beyond having a woman artfully assail an environment historically depicted as masculine, from the Greeks to Hemingway. Yet this Asparagus Mousse production is peculiar, throwaway silliness that charms with the fulness of the briny world it evokes.

JAY RICHARDSON

COMEDY

Peter Buckley Hill and Some Comedians

Whistle Binkies (Venue 158) until 24 August

★★★☆☆

This can be a tricky room to play as the noise spill from the bar can be overpowering. But it is an absolute joy to see Peter Buckley Hill back on stage with the show that started the whole Free Fringe – and paved the way for all that came after. And he doesn't let us down. Opening with a good old knob gag and moving on into a selection of his finest and jolliest musical ditties, he herds his baby audience from bemused through disbelieving to loving every moment. It is an object lesson in MCing a gig. We herald the start of each new song with the traditional “Ohhhhhhhhhhhh,” giggle our way through a rousing rendition of Nobody Gives a F**k If You're a Vegan and even join in Peter's highly controversial take on babies' foreskins.

The titular Some Comedians tonight are Vinay Sagar who's extraordinary ability to remember (today) Pi to the 467th digit is not best displayed here, thanks to an audience who seem unsure as to what Pi is, and Sam Love, who seems less than enthused about the entire thing. But we are given the parting comedy gift of The Ballad of Adolf and Eva and we all go out singing.

KATE COPSTICK

READ MORE: The Best Edinburgh Fringe Comedy 2025: Every show with a four or five star review from The Scotsman so far