My inner Cassandra knew it was going to be a horrible Fringe. But even she could not envisage the terrifying miasma of weaponised fragility and censure at the ninja-powered jerk of the youthful knee that this year’s Fringe is become.
I have minimised my exposure to the super-sensitive, in case I accidentally make them feel “uncomfortable”, and have managed to have a genuinely fun Fringe.
Down along the comedy Diagon Alley of Cowgate, you are in a different land, up the cobbles of Niddry Street and Blair Street and in the nooks and crannies of the Caves you can relax. Banshee Labyrinth is just about my favourite venue on the Fringe and the guys behind the bar are the kind of welcoming that no amount of ‘staff induction / training / sensitivity’ days can give.
You can easily spend a day without running into anyone who has been traumatised by anything of a purely spoken nature. I love the Rowantree baristas, Bannerman’s wonderful big barman and the Canon’s Gait has been part of a joyful, quality, Free Fringe longer than I can remember, so a trip there almost qualifies as a pilgrimage. West Nicholson Street is a multi-venue all on its own offering great ice cream and coffee, sports on a huge screen at the Pear Tree, indoor bars, outdoor bar, friendly, unflappable staff everywhere and a choice of at least seven performing spaces that I can think of.
Make the trek down to the Voodoo Rooms (and you really should) and you will find that your venue bar is the famous and historial Cafe Royal. The food is awesome, and my Fringe reached peak joy when I discovered their Tequila and Verdita shots. I did not even get a call from my credit card company after paying my bill, enquiiring if I had bought a small Hebridean island. You can just stay there all day and watch a real mix of great shows. With Tequila and Verdita shots in between.
Talking of treks, the new PBH venue at the Omni Centre could be something wonderful. Another happy place. It almost is already, and has the vibe of some sort of arts / comedy commune. In the rough edges and the big spaces, you get a real feeling of a world away from the world (I know, it is the Omni Centre, I would not believe me either, but it is true), with the Calton Hill rising behind and the genuinely soul soothing walkway at the back. Imagine if ANY of the Resilience Fund has been spent here. Ten thousand quid would be transformative. The amazing performers here might even get to have a ceiling on their performing spaces. And PLEASE not try to say (which the funding committee did) that the fund was not supposed to be used for “infrastructure”, when some promoters have expanded their venue portfolio almost exponentially with its help.
Of course, had an application stated that the money would be used to ensure that no audience member would be made to “feel uncomfortable” that would have been a different case. And it would have been true, given that the whole I’m Sorry I Haven’t A Clue “One show to the sounds of another” effect is slightly discombobulating. And audience discombobulation is probably on an eradication list somewhere. It is, however, as long as it stays Free, a truly happy place in waiting.
But no matter how bad your day has been, how many times complaints of ‘micro-aggressions’ have called down the clouds of despair (and, tbh, no little thoughts of macro-aggression) about your head, everything is finally ok at Bob’s Blundabus. OK, if you are allergic to Gaulier in any form, Innes and Gunn’s excellent beer or hugging, it might not be for you. For me is is a life-affirming, mind-opening, experience-filled, crazy, mini-wonderland. What, back in the days before everyone felt so “uncomfortable”, we used to call a ‘happening’. And as I stand, as I frequently do, beer in hand, watching something wonderful and semi-incomprehensible happening in a ring of light outside the bus, I turn to Bob and ask “who is that ?” and Bob says “no idea, they just wandered up one night. Great, aren’t they?”. And my Fringe is back.
