Diary: Where everyone's a work of art
Columnists
Richard Herring
Monday 14th August 2006
Was the man with the crown in the cast of a modern-dress Macbeth? Was he making a statement about how we are all kings? Or was he just unhinged?
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More by Richard Herring
Browse all articles by Richard Herring in the NS Library
Once again, I am performing at the Edinburgh Fringe. It's my 15th festival and Ménage à Un is my 22nd new show - all told, I have spent more than a year of my life on the Fringe. Many of the young people hopefully handing out leaflets on the Royal Mile were not even born when I made my debut in 1987. God, I feel old. Given the plethora of awards statuettes that are handed out annually, I have done remarkably well never to have won a thing. (Last year I was graced with the Daily Telegraph's Worst Comedy Experience award, but we can gloss over that for the purposes of this diary.)
Any other city in the world would have rewarded my persistence by knocking down its castle and building a giant statue of my smiling face out of its smashed ruins, but Edinburgh is not so gauche. All I'll get from my month here is a slap in the face, a dent in my bank balance and an itch in my pants. Yet I trudge back year after year like the lovelorn fool that I am, unaware that my devotion just makes the place pity me more. You'd think I'd have learned from my experience with women.
The gentle art of self-promotion
Before stepping into a single venue, I'm convinced I have already witnessed the funniest thing at this year's festival. A gigantic billboard outside what used to be the Gilded Balloon (before it burned down) bears a towering image of the punsmith Tim Vine, his arms imploringly outstretched, a cheesy smile on his face and his name emblazoned across his chest in florid lettering. The sheer scale of this tacky self-promotion is breathtaking. But it is not until you read the smaller lettering next to his beaming face that the full impact emerges. It adds: ". . . is not appearing at this year's festival." It's brilliantly witty, and makes everyone else's efforts to publicise their shows appear like - what else - tacky self-promotion. Vine will probably make more people laugh over the course of the festival than any comedy show and he doesn't even have to get out of bed. The man is a genius.
The lunatic fringe
One of the things I enjoy most about Edinburgh is the way that the sudden influx of actors, street artists and oddly dressed idiots makes it impossible to distinguish the performers from the mentally ill. Walking down Princes Street this afternoon, I saw a man wearing a golden plastic crown. In every other respect he looked like a wiry, hard-faced regular of the kind of pub that Trainspotting characters might drink in, but pressed right down over his forehead was this delicate coronet. Was he on his way to perform in a gritty modern-dress production of Macbeth? Was he a street performer making a bold theatrical statement about how we are all kings of our own worlds? Or was he just mildly unhinged? Whatever the truth, in the context of this festival he became a work of art.
Water world
But surreality isn't confined to Edinburgh. On 29 August last year, Hurricane Katrina hit the Louisiana coast, wreaking death and destruction on New Orleans. I notice that this year America has declared 29 August "Hurricane Awareness Day". I would say they were a year late on that one - 28 August 2005 might have been a better day for a hurricane awareness event. Having it now seems a bit like rubbing it in the faces of New Orleans residents. "Are you aware of hurricanes?" "Yes, I am quite aware of hurricanes, thanks. They're why I live in this bit of water."
Chicken tonight
Taking a solo show to the Fringe can be a lonely business. I have taken to spending my evenings standing outside the window of Chicken Cottage, looking at the sad men eating their dinners alone, avoiding eye contact and talking to no one. It makes me realise that there are people in the world worse off than me. Me, who eats my dinner sad and alone and talking to no one, in KFC. A slightly better quality of chicken and about 10p more expensive. Sometimes I see a man standing at the window looking pityingly in at me and I think: "Ah, he's off to Nando's."
Richard Herring's "Ménage à Un" is at the Smirnoff Underbelly, Edinburgh (0870 745 3083) to 27 August. For further details see [
http://www.edfringe.com]
