Kate Copstick's Festival Diary: Davis deserves the Last Lach

I think I might have become addicted to Lach's Anti-Hoot at the Gilded Balloon.

I can't just pop in and have a look or say hello to the speccy Lach, I end up staying until three in the morning. It would help if I didn't keep going in in the first place, but once you've been there, you just can't help yourself.

Where else will you find such random people in the audience taking part as Paul Foot, Michelle McManus, Mike McShane, the entire cast of Lesbian Bathhouse, Teddy (brilliant Scottish comic who isn't doing a show but loves the Anti-Hoot) and Jay (a sound technician from the Stand who turns out to be a fabulous guitarist and performer of hilariously banal songs)?

Producer Karen Koren wanted to have something that was like the original Late'n'Live, before L'n'L became somewhere to shout abuse and be sick into your shoes. She has got it.

I'm going in tonight with the wonderful Canadian comic Tanyalee Davis who is doing a bit. If she can get to the gig. A couple of nights ago all three foot six of her was stranded in the pouring rain at 5am on Princes Street because buses in this country do not have to take mobility scooters - even tiny three wheelers like Tanyalee's.

So she is banned from public transport. UK bus companies like their disabled people really disabled. If I pushed her on in a big wheelchair, that'd be fine. She just has this silly desire to live an independent life. Hope she makes it somehow from Leith. She is unbelievably funny.

NO GOLD AT THE END OF THIS RAINBOW

The Scotsman! The Musical - a tale of conjoined twins, corruption in the press, and love and comedians - brought the house down last week in the Gilded Balloon. I was a guest on Showstoppers! The Improvised Musical. They have nights where a critic writes a review of a completely fictional show and the unfeasibly talented cast improvise it. They are amazing.

Ruth Bratt was particularly delightful as the Scotsman's lovely arts editor, and I laughed water out my nose at Sarah-Louise Young as a rubbish comic in an ironic Santa hat. The first time I was on stage at the Debating Hall the venue was called Cafe Graffiti. I was in a show called Chasing Rainbows - all fun, froth and 1940s showtunes. We went on at 11.30pm to do 15 minutes. It was horrific. We were more or less talked off.

ON THE FRINGES OF BIG DEBATE

On my way to do the Edinburgh Tonight show with Butch of Topping and Butch (just when I thought the show could not be more fun, we got some sponsorship from Hendrick's Gin), I bumped into a downcast-looking Phil Nichol, muttering about big-name TV comics in enormous spaces drawing much-needed audiences away from the guys working smaller venues. Proper Fringe shows. I absolutely agree.

Coincidentally, down at the Scottish Parliament, doing a wee talk about comedy and politics alongside Tommy Sheppard and Dame Simon Fanshawe, we got into what Mrs Merton would call "a heated debate" about that very thing. The fragrant Simon might not come up to do shows any more but he is on the Fringe board and gets quite declamatory about the Fringe as the original Girl Who Can't Say No. Tommy and I think it's about time she started. The McEwan Hall, The Playhouse, The EICC and most certainly Edinburgh Castle are just not Fringe venues. Very easy to sort things out - a Fringe venue is a venue with a capacity of 600 or less. You want to play to 1,200 people a night that is fine. Just don't expect to be in the Fringe brochure. But when I try the idea out on the dapper Charlie Woods (of the Underbelly Empire) in the Loft Bar later that night he rounds on me. "That is the most stupid thing I have ever heard you say," he declares, positively irate for one so generally amiable. I am sure it can't be. According to Charlie, packing tens of thousands of people a week into the McEwan Hall allows the Underbelly to offer newer acts reduced rates. He has invited me to tea and a sensible discussion on the subject. I say discuss. But I know I am right.

KNOWLEDGE IS POWER

I met up with Joe Power, aka The Man Who Sees Dead People. He is the bloke who was not just taken to the cleaners but boil washed on TV by Derren Brown. Joe says he doesn't do the dead people thing so much now, but adds: "If anyone comes in with something to hide, they can't hide it from me." So if your hubby has joined a gym, started to hum Ting Tings songs and inject Botox, take him along and find out if he has a younger woman. Joe gave me a reading, with a bit of a healing thrown in. According to Joe there is a major come-uppance in the offing for my ex-girlfriend (about time, not that I'm bitter) and I could be having a career change. He was also very flattering about my mum's boobs. My mother had the best boobs. Nice that Joe picked up on that.

JUST THE TONIC - AND SOME GIN TOO

We're having an Erotic Review-themed Edinburgh Tonight today. I have a suitcase full of sauciness to give away so if you fancy winning something untoward or a copy of our very helpful guide to Sex and the Recession, then the space@Symposium Hall (venue 43) would be the place to be at 5pm. Did I mention we're sponsored by Hendrick's Gin?

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