Andrew Maxwell - The Lamp

Striding out in front of a packed, sweltering house, Andrew Maxwell cuts an endearing figure. Dressed in a white, sleeveless vest and the very shortest of short shorts, he looks utterly ridiculous: like the slightly odd kid that always did gym in his underwear. But, instead of explaining himself, he shouts defiantly: “I don’t know what you’re all looking at. I’m the only one here dressed for the occasion.”

The venue is, as is the case almost everywhere, boiling. This leads Maxwell into a nice little riff on the paradoxical nature of Scottish weather, after which he brings out his Leith Walk joke – which gets run at every Festival and, even after hearing it three times, is still very much enjoyed by this reviewer. There’s a pleasing formula to Maxwell’s show as he uses his crowd as a platform to launch into his material: mostly observations and stories concerning the various constituent elements of the UK, and most of it very cheeky indeed.

This is an hour of lightheartedly naughty comedy, in which Maxwell talks about the conflicting emotions that people go through when they hit their thirties: after becoming a father, Maxwell finds himself having to balance the extra burden of responsibility with the fact that he is still, at heart, a great big child. There’s something very likeable about him and his comic delivery is pitched absolutely perfectly. Which is fortunate: otherwise, there would be no way on Earth he could finish his set with the most anticlimactic dance routine going this August, and still be cheered off.