A Portrait Of Shazia Mirza

The weather is foul. We all stumble into the “Baby Grand” of the Pleasance Courtyard, dripping wet. My feet are soaked. I look around me, and despite the icy drenching we've each suffered, the crowd is in good cheer. Of course they are. We're here to see Shazia Mirza.

Shazia's profile as an iconoclastic Muslim comedienne has earned her a place in the National Portrait Gallery beside Nelson Mandela – and it's the idea of a stand up performer ranked alongside such a historic icon which provides the springboard for this hour-long set.

Frankly, this was weak. Some bright moments of strong material rinsed laughs from the audience, but too much was underdeveloped and scattered. Worse, the act lacked warmth and charisma. Some comedians (including Mirza on top form) could have pulled it off with force of personality – but not tonight. Tonight lacked fire and creativity – added to which a large chunk of her acid wit focused on tired stand-up cliches which should be beneath her.

People laughed, but it was the polite chuckling of friends not the howling cackles of a crowd under the spell of a top comic. The biggest crowd this reviewer has seen on the Fringe added to the atmosphere of the evening, which was dull but by no means a total loss. But with all the hungry talent on show this year, Mirza needs to regain her focus and edge if she's to deserve the fame she has, let alone her place alongside Mandela in the National Portrait Gallery.