Reginald D Hunter

Reginald D Hunter has the best voice in the world. It's deep, booming and chock full of old southern charm. Being in the critical mindset of the Edinburgh Festival, and so working entirely in star ratings, it's a five-star voice. Working in quotable soundbites, it's "the best voice you'll hear this festival." Working in... you understand.

Hunter opened last year's set with the following phrase: "Sheet, man. What the fuck are we doin' in this big upside-down mutha-fuckin' cow." Not great, not witty, but everyone laughed. A lot. Even me. That's how good his voice is. I hoped he might say it again this year. I'd have laughed again.

All of this is to say that Hunter is unquestionably the most charismatic comedian on the Fringe. It is frankly impossible to not be caught hanging on every word he says. Luckily, most of it is great stand-up fodder. His routine is a brilliant observation of his own family and friends, one that is not bizarre or inherently messed up but imperfect and slightly embarrassing, one that is familiar. He speaks with a warmth and fondness that translates excellently to the more absurd situations which Hunter trades off, in particular his fantastically ill-interpreted conversations with his dad about sex.

He is particularly strong when running dangerously close to the border of acceptability on misogyny and Jewish stereotyping, without being at all misogynistic or anti-semitic, just very funny. His stuff on race is slightly weaker, if only because we've heard it all before. But The Voice makes it funny.

Hunter is mesmerising throughout, dealing with the lamest "helpful" heckle imaginable (talking about Blaxplotation films, someone in the crowd shouts "Like Shaft!" "Don't worry," quips Hunter, "if I ever get stuck I'll be thinking 'where's that drunk, bald mutha-fucker'") gently but hilariously. His finale is perhaps the highlight, tying up all loose ends and previous topics into a punchline that truly pushes the boundaries of good taste. This is great stuff.