Comedy review: John Bishop | Arj Barker | David Strassman | Daniel Rigby | Henning Weng | Tim FitzHigham | Shazia Mirza | Maeve Higgins | Jennifer Coolidge

Likeable Liverpudlian John Bishop is having a knock-out Fringe and his show, Sunshine, is a feelgood explanation of how he has risen from playing to audiences of four in a cargo container to a prime-time TV slot and selling out the McEwan Hall.

His rise up the comedy ranks is accompanied by background tales of his family's indifference to his success and his mates' hawk-like vigilance for signs of showbiz swankiness. It's all done with a mischievous charm, down-to-earth attitude and highly infectious megawatt grin that the audience can't help but warm to.

While Bishop earns his laughs with well-polished anecdotes, Arj Barker's material involves well-crafted, sometimes surreal, observational comedy. Now known best as Dave from Flight of the Conchords, the Californian stand-up used to be a regular at the Fringe but this is his first visit in ten years. "I've been getting ready for you," he says, and it shows.

Not afraid to prime his jokes with long set-ups, Barker is as confident as he is laidback. In the past, there was a strong whiff of the stoner about Barker's comedy but that has now been replaced by a whip smart ability to turn perceived wisdom on its head and some genuinely creative gags about the pitfalls of modern technology. His idea for new typefaces that can convey tone in a text message was pitch perfect and, were I Barker, I would patent it before Apple develops his concept.

Fellow American, Fringe veteran and ventriloquist David Strassman has also come up with an ambitious show. Called Duality and written by Steve Altman, it's a one-man play in which Strassman's character Jack discusses the shared boundaries of his identity with Zack, his obnoxious dummy. As their dialogue becomes increasingly fraught, the distinction between Jack and Zack blurs. The ventriloquism is brilliant but, for all its multiple layers and switcheroos, the central, endlessly recurring gag of the play can be summed up by the line 'You're repeating myself'. A good proportion of his audience gave Strassman a standing ovation on the night of this review but I found it self-indulgent and just not consistently funny enough.

Up-and-coming Brit comic Daniel Rigby has similar consistency problems with his show Afterbirth. The initial premise, that the 19-year-old Rigby briefly became a Christian after going to an Alpha group, is promising and, when Rigby digs into his two year's personal experience of 'happy clappy gay hate', then his material flies. The problems come when he moves away from the personal and has a pop at the Bible's weirder stories.

That Noah fathered children at the age of 500 is indeed strange but Rigby doesn't manage to convert it into comedy gold. Rigby has a lot going for him, it just hasn't coalesced in this show.

Henning Wehn, the self-styled German comedy ambassador, has a show called My Struggle and it's every bit as Teutonic as the Hitler-referencing title implies. Blithely littering his speech with incongruous Cockney idioms, Wehn has a right old laugh at British and German stereotypes. That the Germans are efficient and think that the Greeks are lazy is not breaking new observational ground but Wehn breathes fresh life into it. He is at his best when gunning for the British class system, our supposed tolerance of other people's beliefs and, naturally, the English football team. Of course, unlike Basil Fawlty, Wehn does mention the war and he deftly punctures British martial pride by pointing out that while some Brits do bang on about WWII, they are uncharacteristically quiet about more recent conflicts.

Foolhardy military cock-ups are in the DNA of Tim FitzHigham, a wild-eyed obsessive from an old, titled family and a man who could be our next king; providing the several hundred people with a better claim to the throne should kick the bucket first. In previous years, FitzHigham has enthralled audiences with his madcap tales of extreme adventure. Crossing the Channel in a roll-top bath was one of his more notable suicide bids.

This year, FitzHigham is worried that marriage and the birth of his daughter have robbed him of his 'hero' gene. En route to resolving this crisis, we hear of the medieval roots of his family title; stand to attention to his heraldic flag and discover how he came to be in a film with Clint Eastwood. In short, it's a rambling but engaging shaggy dog story told with wit and plenty of manic exasperation. I expect he is the black sheep of his family but that's just another reason to go catch his show.

An unmarried virgin who is dating an atheist Irish man, Shazia Mirza is the self proclaimed 'white sheep' of her Pakistani Muslim family. As you might imagine, her own life gives Mirza plenty of material to work with and, in this show, she busts countless taboos about race, multiculturalism and sex with enough gusto to make the Guardian readers in the audience squirm uncomfortably. It doesn't all work but Mirza is very much on form and the nonchalant disregard with which she strides through several PC minefields is wonderful to watch. She ends with a great, surprising set piece about meeting the Queen that should be included in the curriculum of all diversity training days.

If Mirza gets right up in the face of some of the more contentious contemporary issues then Maeve Higgins is a rather more gentle prospect. She introduces herself by saying 'Welcome to my hit-and-miss comedy show' and I could end the review there. Her stage persona is that of a daydreaming, easily distracted Mrs Doyle from Father Ted.

Her anecdotal material is ramshackle and meandering but, over the course of a warm, fuzzy hour, she craftily lures the audience into her world of cakes and chat about her family.

Somewhat less sweet and innocent is Jennifer Coolidge, the Hollywood actress who plays up to the voracious cougar image she portrayed in the American Pie films. The dirty washing of her bumpy love life, former coke habit and colourful career are all held up for public scrutiny in this warts'n'all confessional show. She gleefully dishes the dirt on Hollywood and, as a woman with a fuller figure, has much to say on film directors' preferences for emaciated starlets.

Her material is often bawdy and her former boyfriend's ears must be burning but there is also a guarded vulnerability about her performance which softens some of the harder to swallow details. It could certainly be more focused but Coolidge doesn't just rely on her star status, such as it is, to carry the show. There's plenty of substance to go with the sass.

John Bishop, Underbelly's Pasture, until 30 Aug, times vary; Arj Barker, Assembly@George Street, until 29 Aug, 9.20pm; Strassman, Pleasance Courtyard, until 30 Aug, 7pm; Daniel Rigby, Pleasance Courtyard, until 28 Aug, 7.15pm; Henning Wehn, Just the Tonic@The Caves, until 29 Aug, 9.10pm; Tim FitzHigham, Pleasance Courtyard, until 30 Aug, 9.30pm; Shazia Mirza, Gilded Balloon Teviot, until 30 Aug, 9pm; Maeve Higgins, Gilded Balloon Teviot, until 30 Aug, 4.30pm; Jennifer Coolidge, Assembly@George Street, until 29 Aug, 8.15pm

This article was first published in Scotland on Sunday, 22 August, 2010

bc