Kevin Bridges: An Hour to Sing for Your Soul

“I've played big venues, but fuck me!” says Bridges as he steps into a tiny performance space in front of a mere 60 giggling and expectant punters. Such has been the sea change in the 22-year-old Glaswegian's fortunes over the few months since his stonking performance on Michael McIntyre's Comedy Roadshow, that the decision to put on his first Fringe run at the Pleasance Joker Dome – little more than a glorified corridor in Edinburgh Uni's Student Union building – now looks like an underestimate of massive, almost surreal proportions.

The unexpected demand for tickets has been such that Bridges will play the Grand at the end of this month, a space normally reserved for comic royalty. He is thus at a strange point in his career. The hype that's built up around him recently means that some members of the audience at this gig are confused as to why he's playing in such a small room (mutters to this effect are heard before he comes on stage), and while Bridges takes the situation in good humour, it's clear that he's ready for bigger things.

This lends an awkwardness to proceedings that is never quite overcome over the course of the hour. Certainly, the material is all there. After five years on the circuit, Bridges has built up a wealth of very solid anecdotes and one-liners, focusing mostly on the grubbier aspects of working-class life in Glasgow and beyond. While it's become standard practice in comedy circles to caricature those on society's sharp end, Bridges has the great advantage of being unmistakably working-class himself: when he describes Paisley as a place where “pregnant women attack rottweilers with sledgehammers,” the image has the whiff of authenticity rather than snobbery.

Bridges has some nice ideas and a smart turn of phrase. The pretension of the Homecoming Scotland campaign is punctured by suggesting that its chosen role models, such as Sean Connery and Lulu, could be replaced by more representative Scots such as “Big Mental Davey the joiner”. Budget Irish clothes chain Dunnes is described as “somewhere between Primark and shoplifting”. Only occasionally does Bridges resort to Jongleurs-circuit sexism or witless crudery, for cheaper laughs.

His self-aware and slightly vulnerable charm makes for a natural stage presence, but it's obvious that this isn't his best night. The audience banter falls flat as often as it flies; and while his tendency to analyse his own performance provides some funny and endearing moments, it ends up looking a bit underconfident and apologetic. Bridges clearly has the talent and commitment to be a very big name, and I suspect the extra boost of adrenaline will help produce something really special once he gets to the Grand. But for now, it looks as though Fringe audiences will have to settle for shows that are somewhat less remarkable than they've been encouraged to expect.