Last day, last show. We have eight pre-sales so it should be a quiet ending but Rob and David and a few other friends are coming along tonight to give us a bit of support, which Mark and I will be reciprocating later. Slightly disappointed not to be able to catch Sean Cullen's or Paul Putner's shows because of this, but such are the sacrifices you make for your friends. [Later: It went excellently, friends enjoying our last show additions and the rest of the audience laughing heartily.]

Exciting moment of the last few days was the announcement that Matt has won the Perrier Award for Garth Marenghi. And so it should be. The other four nominees were Jason Byrne (Phil Kay meets Spike Milligan), Adam Hills (a good, solid, but unexciting Australian stand-up), Dan Antopolski (again an excellent stand-up, but filled out his show with video starring other comedians which left me feeling slightly cheated) and Daniel Kitson (who's show I shall be going to see tonight). A lot of people thought Byrne or Kitson would win, but the improvised nature of Jason Byrne probably leaves Garth looking a lot more consistent and Kitson was never going to win it his first year up in Edinburgh, rather he was nominated for the main award instead of winning Best Newcomer as a recognition of his exceptional talent much like Garth Marenghi was last year.

Surprise of the evening was the nomination of the Footlights for Best Newcomer, Footlights first nomination since they won the first Perrier Award in 1981. There was apparently a lot of discussion about whether they were actually eligible as 'newcomers' but it was decided that Footlights itself is more like a management company that takes a new act up to Edinburgh each year and the six new performers were themselves all newcomers to the Fringe. Good for Footlights I suppose, and David suggests this is the beginning of a U-turn in people's opinion of the club, but a good deal of the cast were not involved with Footlights during their time at Cambridge and it seems quite a manufactured show. They also all seem a bit cocky -- having met some of them at the Perrier party -- and I hope they don't fall into the trap of over-confidence when they come back to Edinburgh next year with their own shows. The Footlights name is still something of an albatross around the neck of anyone attempting to make it as a comedian in the real world and being nominated for Best Newcomer will barely change that.

Pleasingly, no act was nominated for Best Newcomer that I thought was worse than Mark and my show, indeed no double acts were nominated at all. And bizarrely the winner, Garth Cruckshank in 'Let's Have A Shambles', was a show that Dan and I were thinking of going to see as one of our 'let's go and catch a really terrible show in order to have a bit of a laugh' outings. Perhaps if I had seen it I would have some opinion on whether it should have won or not, and I'd probably have one over almost every other person at the festival as no-one seems to have any idea what the hell it was.

The Perrier party was excellent fun, especially once Richard from Forth FM managed to sneak us into the Nominee Room by saying that he was doing an important interview with us to round off their festival coverage and we'd only be in there five minutes. Five hours more like. All manner of fun people were around: Matt and Richard looking a little dazed after a swift and intense round of post-award interviews; Nick Symons from Carlton who wants to talk to me, Mark, Rob, David, Susan and Janice next week about doing some show together; Robert Popper and Peter Serafinowicz, always amusing; various naive young Footlighters; and two sisters who'd come to see our show and loved it after coming across my website while searching the internet for stuff about Matt -- very bizarre and random.

It's been an interesting Fringe, and I perhaps have enjoyed it more than most, helped by my ability to only really think about the show while actually doing it. We've achieved what we set out to do -- to persuade producers that we're not just writers but also good performers -- and had great compliments from many of them. We've got back to doing stuff for us, not other people, and that's a great step, one that the people in power seem to be willing to help us take. Yes, audiences were small, but the Assembly Rooms has not had a great comedy line-up this year and when no-one really knows who you are you need people to be in a comedy frame of mind and willing to take a chance on a show they've never heard of which I don't think happens here. Had we been at the Pleasance, where punters hang about in the courtyard and catch shows on a whim, and in a smaller venue, say a forty- or fifty-seater rather than ninety-three, we would have had a much more successful Fringe audience-wise. In Pleasance Below we probably would have sold out the last week of the festival. As it was we've been getting anywhere between ten and fifty a night but generally skewed towards the lower end.

So will we come back next year? At the moment, I don't know. We ought to, to build on what we've achieved in this last month, otherwise it seems like a bit of a waste, and we should be in a much stronger position in twelve months time what with the TV interest we've had. So yes, we probably will, although I'd really like to make sure we do a different kind of show, something a bit more 'out there', if that means anything. Of course we don't need to decide for six months, but they go so quickly, and who knows how I'll feel come February. Ask me then. §

Two more reviews: an excellent one on Chortle.co.uk but still only three stars (Grr!), and finally a four star review in Metro, kindly transcribed by Rory.

Comedy Review: BACHMAN AND EVANS - HMM... ****

Having written for Ant and Dec, there's every reason why James Bachman and Mark Evans's names should raise hope in the hearts of those exhausted by a Fringe diet of gauche student reviews and limp stand-up. And this two-man show doesn‚t disappoint, with all the surreal humour you might hope for, with the number of decent jokes more than worth the admission price. Essentially a deranged sitcom, the central story centres on two aimless, bored characters who accidentally inherit, then prime and activate a nuclear warhead. This element is subtly worked into the script, allowing our heroes to focus more clearly on their daily routines of not paying their bills and counting cornflakes.

You can trace the ancestral tree of this kind of comedy right back to the hayday of BBC radio comedy such as The Goons, and Bachman and Evans (below right with Evans) live up to these standards. Set pieces such as the two comics abusing each other by reading the most negative reviews from their press cuttings are done a treat, and running gags about their acting ability and bumps in the carpet get funnier as the show goes on. Saturday morning television may well be the best time for this kind of comedy, but if there's any justice, it won't be long before Bachman and Evans can step out of the shadows to accept their own place in the Parthenon of comic heroes. With this show, they're one step closer.

(Eddie Harrison, Metro, Monday 20 August 2001, p.15)

I think he means 'Pantheon'. Oh, and the 'Bachman and Evans (below right with Evans)' refers to the photo they printed of us, even though it still doesn't make much sense. Poor sub-editing once again, a feature of arts coverage at the Fringe this year. §

Almost a week later and things are pretty much about the same. The day off was a blessing -- shame we don't have any more -- and I managed to catch a couple of shows that conflict with us, namely Footlights, and Mat and Mackinnon. Footlights is quite interesting this year, and all the more so for having talked to the two directors at the Pleasance a couple of days later. There's basically a lot of 'acting' in it and not many jokes. The show is filled with pathos and awkward moments, almost all the material in it coming from character, although the two sketches the audience enjoyed most -- a nightclub scene where the thoughts of the clubbers are projected onto a screen, and a couple who have everything in common -- were the ones with actual gags in them. It turns out that the director (apparently 'not much of a comedy fan'...) had not cast any of the active Footlights participants this year apart from the president, deciding instead to put together a cast of actors who could 'communicate their truth'. Hmm. Doesn't sound like a recipe for great laughs, does it? Some good performances though, nice use of video and slide projection instead of a set, and most importantly it didn't feel like a two hour show that had been cut down to one for the Fringe.

Mat and Mackinnon were fine: two likeable ex-drama students who've taken up stand-up comedy and manage to intersperse the odd sketch inbetween their double-act shenanigans. But nothing special. Oh, and Mackinnon was a lot better than Mat.

Our shows since Monday have been reasonably good and interestingly we have yet to perform one where the audience doesn't include at least one person we know. Sometimes I wonder why the rest of the people are there. Part of me wants to stop the show and just ask them, 'Why on earth did you come here tonight? You have no idea who we are, surely, so what drew you to Bachman and Evans? Was it the poster? The blurb in the brochure? Did someone in the street give you a free ticket? Are you here for a bet?' I does intrigue me, and I know it fascinates Mark as well, but we're unlikely to ever find out.

Last night was a bit slow which was a little disappointing especially as Jim Reid from Channel X was in, but he's seen it before in London anyway and liked us then. A few more reviews out and a recommendation in The Big Issue as 'names to look out for' from the woman who reviewed us for The List which is nice. As usual all our reviews have been good but only given us three stars which is very frustrating. Here's an example from the Edinburgh Evening News:

BOMB PLOT LIGHTS COMIC FUSE ***
James and Mark are bored. But one of them has a bomb. That is the sum total of plot in this ludicrous hour of nonsense brought to the Fringe by two writers who have been involved in nearly every piece of radio and TV comedy from the last five years.

Two minutes in, and we have established, through a vote from the audience, that James is the better actor while pretending to be bored. Five minutes in, and the story that they are trying to tell has been interrupted for the third time because Mark refuses to stay in character. Ten minutes in, and the rivalry between the two performers is getting in the way so often that they can't continue with any single scene without criticising each other's performance.

This incredibly juvenile approach to storytelling is a brilliant one, as the feud between the two performers is promoted for all it is worth.

The story, when it eventually gets told, is a very silly one, but the idea is hare-brained enough to carry the hour through to a satisfying end. James and Mark may well be bored, but luckily the audience never are. (Sharon Cribbin)

Now that's a four star review, isn't it? Oh well. Some genuine punter on the Some of the Corpses are Amusing forum likes us too which is good, and with his (or her) list or recommended shows places us in illustrious company. Nice to be appreciated by someone I don't know. Unless it is a friend of ours in which case learn to spell my bloody surname.

Michele (our agent) is up in Edinburgh again, as are Jon, Leila and Sally; John Powell's coming to stay with us for a few days from Monday; and Dan and Jules are coming up tomorrow. Monday night the Edinburgh party season starts in earnest with the Edinburgh or Bust party. Here come ten days of madness. §

Will someone explain to me how this is 'a review'? Two paragraphs that just stop -- and that's not an incorrectly entered webpage; the review is identical in today's Scotsman.

According to Rachel from our PR company Fiona Shepherd really liked our show so we're all assuming what she wrote has been badly sub-edited into no more of a review than the show description we'd write on the back of our fliers. No indication of whether or not the show was any good at all, indeed no indication that it's even a comedy show. Just unbelievable. I'd like to complain to the Scotsman's Arts Editor but I doubt it'd do any good. Rachel's going to try and speak to Fiona to see if there was any more. I hope so. I'd like to have some idea of what she thought. §

Miles did come again, enjoyed it a second time and bought us a drink afterwards while asking if we'd like to come and talk to Absolutely in September about doing something with them. Fantastic. This is the main reason we're here in Edinburgh and I'm glad it seems to be paying off. Miles also reiterated how much Robert Popper had liked it -- always good to hear congratulations confirmed from another source -- though wondered if maybe we were a bit too 'broad' for Channel 4. He seemed a little bemused as to what quite to do with us. But Mark and I are versatile and this show is not the sum total of what we do. Miles may be surprised by what we pitch at him come the autumn.

Saturday's show however was extraordinary. Perhaps our best performance yet was met with an hour of complete silence. Why, I have absolutely no idea. How so many varied people can enjoy what we've produced and then thirty random punters sit there stony-faced for sixty minutes totally addles my brain. Halfway through the show I found myself standing on stage thinking, 'It's alright -- there's only thirty minutes to go. You don't have to walk offstage and go home.' It was a massive struggle, I can tell you. Even worse, we discovered afterwards that a reviewer from the Observer had been in who is also on the Perrier panel. Typical. Still, these kind of moments afflict everyone, I'm sure.

After such a dismal performance, we thoroughly deserved the rapturous reception we received the following evening. Sunday's show was a joy to do, and proved the general show timing rule, 'add ten percent for laughs', running at about fifty-seven minutes as opposed to the fifty or so of the previous night. An audience of about thirty simply cackled their way through all fifty-seven of them, Mark noticing that one man near the front just seemed to be in almost constant hysterics. Wonderful. How two shows can go so differently amazes me. Edinburgh audiences are extraordinary.

Last night's show was back to square one again. Only about ten people in and one of them walked out after about ten minutes. Yes, four of the audience really enjoyed it, but out of a total of ten that gives us little succour. In my opinion it wasn't as bad as the show two nights before but Mark found it immensely disappointing, compounded by the fact that about forty-five minutes after we had finished, and while I was off seeing Priorite a Gauche (entertaining but not as excellent as I've been lead to believe by their reviews) with Rory and Jane, the woman who had walked out confronted him in the bar with launched at him with abuse along the lines of 'so, were you happy with how your show went tonight?', 'I found it both immensely unfunny and offensive', and 'why would would you bother bringing a show like that to the fringe?'. All this comes secondhand from Mark of course and I doubt I've caught any of the ferocity of her comments, and indeed the hammer blow it struck him, taken as he was completely by surprise.

Why would someone want to do such a thing? You don't like a show, surely you move on? You don't hunt them down, personally abuse them and make them feel worthless as human beings, do you? What did she think she would gain from saying this to us? She got her money back (Mark paid for her and her two friends who also apparently hated it out of his own pocket then and there) but she claimed he was giving it to her to make her feel guilty. Just amazing. Absolutely amazing. I suppose we must remember how well it went the day before and that people who's judgement we trust have really liked this show. That's the point of doing this kind of thing, and we can't allow ourselves to be affected by a vindictive audience member.

Anyway, it's our day off today. Not the best state to leave the show in, but we're both glad of the break. And it'll give us a chance to wash our shirts... §

Our sixth seventh show yesterday. [This used to be 'fourth' -- it's taken me that long to finally post this.] Our second was better than the first, both for ourselves and Rob and David, the time we spent with Pete and Hilary on Saturday morning time helping enormously as both shows were technically pretty much perfect. Small audiences still -- the official start of the Fringe wasn't until Sunday, and as far as Mark and I are concerned no-one knows who the hell we are -- but they seemed to respond well, although Mitchell and Webb's show began with a good ten to fifteen minutes of unresponsive silence.

For us, Sunday was not unlike Rob and David's Saturday show: a largish audience, though most of them there due to free tickets being given away outside the venue, who took almost twenty minutes to make a sound. We thought we were doomed, but then finally they laughed at something. The rest of the show continued in much the same vein -- huge laughs for particular jokes, but never in a predictable fashion and always with a good two or three minutes of silence either side. Extraordinary, and the weirdest audience I think I have ever experienced.

Rory and his wife Jane were in, having just moved to Edinburgh from Melbourne, and said they very much enjoyed it which buoyed me up a bit. Indeed Rory had a reasonable theory about the mildness of the reaction we seem to be getting from audiences at the moment, which is mainly based on the fact that we're on at 5.45 and not later and I may have to agree with him. At 5.45 you get people coming fresh to see your show, not full of the joys of the spring, or rather the Fringe and alcohol, particularly at the Assembly Rooms where there is no comfortable place to hang out drinking before the show like the Pleasance courtyard. The Assembly Rooms' austerity contributes to the austerity of its audiences, and the later your show is on the less this has an effect. Just look at my reaction to Susan and Janice's show; a few drinks and I had a great time. Earlier in the evening I would probably have enjoyed it the same amount but almost certainly not have laughed as loudly or as much.

We were warned that the beginning of the week would be terrible for audiences but the three shows we've done so far have been pretty well attended, although I reckon a large proportion of the audience members had been 'papered' (handed free tickets). All three shows this week were seen by a different producer friend of ours each night: Robert Popper from Channel 4 on Monday; Miles Bullough from Absolutely on Tuesday; and Saurabh Kakkar from Granada on Wednesday. And all of them really liked it. In fact Miles liked it so much he's coming again tonight, which is encouraging.

Our first review today in The List, Edinburgh's equivalent of Time Out. Three stars (or blobs) but from the tone of the review (and comparing it to other three star reviews which all seem to have reservations) I reckon it really should have been four:

'From the very realistic beginning -- two friends sitting in their flat, bored out of their minds -- this show quickly descends into the realm of the surreal, when Bachman receives a nuclear bomb free with a packet of cornflakes from his local shop. Having established the tone, the boys gleefully stretch the preposterous storyline as far as it will go, revelling in its implausability, and intersperse it with several asides, ranging from a trailer for a later show, to boastful demonstrations of acting ability. Some quite spectacular comedy falls and witty captions on the backdrop complete the frolics, making a show that's not only imaginative and entertaining, but is also intelligently and creatively put together.' (Kirsty Knaggs)

Not bad at all really, and certainly quotable for the future particularly 'quite spectacular comedy'. No-one needs to know about the 'falls'... We've had The Guardian, Edinburgh Evening News, Scotland on Sunday and The Scotsman in already so we'll be looking out for reviews nightly from now on. Here's hoping they're good as they can make all the difference to an unknown show like ours.

Took a bit of time off babysitting Rob and David's show (which also got a four star review in the List) early this week to see a few shows: Garth Marenghi's Netherhead (just brilliant), The Big and Daft Christmas Show (fine), Andrew Clover - Puppy Love (mad), and Noble and Silver (clever and interesting but not terribly funny). In-depth comments to come on Funny Ha Ha. Unfortunately while I was away everything seemed to screw up, both the technical and performance side, so we did some re-rehearsal on Wednesday afternoon, tightening up Rob and David's performances and adding some business to parts of the show that seemed a bit flat. All to the benefit of the show when I saw it again last night, which is most pleasing. §

Well. Our first night was -- how shall I put it? -- fine. We had about fifteen to twenty people in which, although seems a painfully small number in a venue that seats ninety three, is pretty good for the first night of a show by two people that by all rights no-one should have heard of (your good selves excluded). So all seemed fine. But then things started to go a little wrong; not hugely so, but enough to make it a slightly difficult experience.

First off, the start of the show took me completely by surprise, mainly because our technical operator didn't play any audience walk-in music, so suddenly I was hunched over in the wings arranging my props when I hear the 20th Century Fox fanfare and look over to see Mark on stage which slightly put me on the wrong foot for the rest of the show. That combined with the projector and screen being in a place we weren't used to which required a slightly different stage setting and a selection of technical mistakes -- blackouts when there should have been none or no blackout when we were expecting one, sound cues in the wrong place, my accidentally kicking the margarine under the stage just before Mark needed it -- basically threw both Mark and me a little for most of the hour and made it rather an uncomfortable experience.

That said, everyone who came to see it failed to notice much of the problems and seemed to thoroughly enjoy it. Indeed Rachel from our PR company was sitting next to the reviewer from The List who was apparently laughing heartily throughout. What the unexpected man from the Guardian thought however we do not know.

David and Rob's show was also fraught with technical problems, and to a much greater extent than ours since theirs is so dependent on many, many soundcues being played at the right time. Most of them did not arrive. Phones rang when televisions should have been burbling; people spoke from the wings who were already on stage; and blackouts that should have been filled with voice-overs became long uncomfortable silences. Or rather long uncomfortable blasts of noise from the air-conditioning. Oh, and then about halfway through the show both David and Rob leave the stage at the same time (something that never occurs in the script -- it's only a two-man show after all) and spend what seems like two minutes each in opposite wings desperately trying to work out what the hell comes next but refusing to go onstage again until they've done so. And then the fin fell over. Madness, and in both instances a result of the very limited tech time we had for both shows. I only hope for their sake that the reviewer from the Observer they had in can see the potential in what was obviously a show fraught with first night problems.

Luckily such things are sortable. We spoke to the Assembly Rooms' head technician and he arranged for us to come in and talk Pete and Hilary, our technicians, through all the cues again this morning and it seems that this evening's shows should be a lot closer to what we envisage.

Went to see Susan and Janice's show as well last night and laughed a lot. Although by that time I was a little pissed so I may have articulated my amusement a little too loudly. Good show though and Michèle took all six of us out for a meal at an Italian round the corner afterwards leaving us in not much of a state to converse sensibly with Pete and Hilary at 9.30 this morning. Ah, Edinburgh; I remember now: apart from the one hour a day when you're doing a show the rest of the time is almost entirely spent drinking, eating and sleeping. §

Photos:
Susan and Janice onstage in the Drawing Room, the same venue where Mark and myself and David and Rob are performing; Rob, a little too animated for my camera, chatting to Will Scarnell in the bar after his show; Mark in the performers' bar after our show;Susan, Rob and my hand eating Italian later that night (photo by David); Janice similarly; David protects his food; me enjoying the Tuscan ambience; David snaps Rob and me after the meal. §

Two days down, twenty-six to go. Wednesday noon Mark, David, Rob and I all caught the GNER fast train to Edinburgh; four and a half hours of pleasant scenery on one of the sunniest days of the year, sitting in the luxury of Intercity First Class (the Assembly Rooms sorted out our tickets and managed to get some kind of group discount). An uneventful journey apart from my constant attempts to get through to the police station in Soho to obtain a crime reference number in order to procure myself a new mobile phone. But Orange seemed to be against me.

Every time I used Mark or David's phone to ring the police, Orange or Carphone Warehouse, the moment -- and I mean the very moment, as if it was deliberate -- I got through the 'press your star key eight times if you're old-fashioned enough to want to speak to an actual human being' menus and the nightmare refrain of 'you are being held in a queue -- your call is important to us' the signal would drop off and I would be left trying not to scream in frustration in front of the other passengers whose Wednesday afternoon had every right to be uninterrupted by my inability to deal with a simple insurance claim.

It would have been fine if it wasn't so urgent. I could have waited until we'd reached Edinburgh and I was stationary and in one area of reasonable reception for more than about thirty seconds to ring them. But the crime has to be reported within twenty-four hours and the police station's business hours were 8 to 4, closing half an hour before we were due to pull in to Edinburgh Waverley. Such are the inconveniences of having one's phone stolen I suppose. In the end the man from the police did manage to get through to me and give me a crime reference number and I was assured by Carphone Warehouse that I would be able to pop into their Edinburgh Princes Street branch and walk out with a replacement the next morning.

Second incident of the journey was Mark's discovery somewhere past Newcastle that the second of the two A0 dog photographs that we need for our show was currently travelling around the Metropolitan Line where he'd left it that morning. Oh dear. This though was sortable. Using my immense presence of mind I got the number of the Snappy Snaps in Charlotte Street where we'd had the thing printed, ascertained whether they still had the original image on their computer and got them to print it out again and post it to us. Sorted. Hopefully we'll have it in time for our first show tonight.

Arrival in Auld Reekie (can I pull it off? -- no) saw us all trekking (or rather cabbing) to the Assembly offices and collecting the keys to our two flats. And while we were there, taking the opportunity to look at our posters and fliers. Mark's and mine has come out excellently and Rob and David's is exactly as I designed it; it's just that I would have done it differently if I'd had my way. Nice enough though. David was desperate to tear one of the fliers down from the displays and look at the back but we discouraged him. Unfortunately he would have been right to do so, because when we finally got to look at them on Thursday we discovered that the backs of them, so lovingly designed by me and filled with quotes and blurb aimed specifically at selling the shows to your average unknowing punter, seemed to be totally blank. In fact the printers seemed just to have printed a small A5 version of our poster (which they also printed at A3 not the specified A2) instead of the specific flier designs I'd given them. I'm furious; particularly as the printers are now trying to claim that the disks I sent them did not give details about the separate fliers. This is of course an extraordinary lie. I spent hours doing those sodding things and took great care to include on each Zip disk a text file describing the print specifications in exacting detail so there could be no misunderstanding. As it stands at the moment they will be printed properly by Monday but they seem to be using the blissful ignorance stance to try and charge us for the reprints. Bring them to me! Let me open the disks in front of them. Let me expose their pitiful lies. Arseholes.

Our accomodation in Edinburgh is not bad at all, except for a slight discrepancy in flat quality. Rob and David find themselves in a massive high-ceilinged flat on Dundas Street, a mere five minutes walk from the Assembly Rooms whereas Mark and I have been given a considerably smaller (although not at all unpleasant) flat in a place called Gayfield Square, a good fifteen to twenty minutes walk from the venue. Both Mark and I are understandably envious. Still this should result in Rob and David's being the party flat and ours being the refuge from the madness. And irrespective of where we live it's still going to be a cab home every night for the four of us.

Wednesday evening also saw us christen our arrival at the Fringe with a visit to the Pleasance to hang out in their delightful courtyard, enjoying a drink with Matt and Richard, John and Kevin, Wendy (only a month or so married and already pregnant) and various other comedians and friends who should take the edge off the constant stress of performing in the spotlight. Unfortunately the Pleasance also brings with it its own special brand of Edinburgh disease: an affliction that has come to be known as the Pleasance Look; characterised solely by the total inability to maintain eye-contact with the person your talking to, and instead scanning the courtyard for other people you might want to hail warmly or simply avoid. Try as hard as you can but you can't help doing it.

Oh, and how's the show? Well the technical rehearsals went fine (for both our show and Rob and David's) although the two hours alloted was barely enough to get through all the sound, projection and lighting cues our shows have. However Pete and Hilary who run the room we're performing in and who will be operating the desk during our shows are very good at their jobs and picked everything up incredibly quickly, enthusing us with so much confidence that Mark and I have decided to abandon our decision to put the reviewer from the List off coming to see our first show tonight. It'll be fine. Sunday Times and Edinburgh Nights in tomorrow, so our PR machine seems to be working fine, but let's just hope the three of them like us; a bad review this early could shaft us totally. §

Photos
Mark on the phone in our flat; the home comforts that £2000 of rent buys you for a month; all roads lead to a Pleasance venue; Rob savours the last bite of a hotdog, Mark loiters behind; and Edinburgh in a nutshell: fags, booze and fliers. §

I am officially a statistic: yesterday evening I had my mobile phone stolen. From right under my nose.

I was sitting outside a pub off Carnaby Street with Robert and Theo (Robert at the time was in the lavatory), Robert's and my phones resting on the table should someone call, enjoying a pre-Edinburgh drink, when three guys in their late teens came up to the table. One of them asked if we could spare a cigarette and when Theo said we hadn't got any left (true) they grabbed at a packet of Drum tobacco lying on the table, dropped it and ran off giggling. It took Theo several seconds of confusion to notice that both Robert's and my phones were missing. Infuriating.

Phones are replacable -- I'm insured by Carphone Warehouse who should get me a new one a.s.a.p. -- but that it should happen last night of all nights, the night before I go up to Edinburgh for a month, the night before we start a run of our new show on the biggest comedy festival in the world where it might be quite handy for our PR firm, our venue, our agent, for me to be contactable. Bloody hell. For a moment, right after it had happened, I wished I'd had a gun or something with which to inflict them maximum pain. I've calmed down a bit now but it's still thoroughly annoying, and it could have been worse. It could have been my wallet. Or my iBook.

Our previews have gone very well, Monday night's in particular, resulting in a pretty good review in the Evening Standard which we shall pull choice quotes from to be plastered all over our posters in the foyer of the Assembly Rooms, such as 'James Bachman and Mark Evans buck the trend with a double act with chemistry' and 'As experienced writers they clearly know how to structure a script, planting early set-ups and harvesting punchlines later. Full marks for banging in laughs a plenty.' Thank you kindly, Bruce Dessau.

Off to Edinburgh today (as you've probably gathered) on the twelve o'clock train, first class. Our first performance is on Friday. I'll keep you posted. From now on, if I can summon the drive to keep it going, this weblog will become a diary of my experiences in Edinburgh. Wish me luck. §