John Gordillo

Acclaimed comedy writer/producer John Gordillo is not happy. Not happy with his ‘fraught relationship’, with his permanently ill girlfriend, or the London tube system, or bagpipers let loose in Edinburgh. But most of all, he’s not happy doing a free show. ‘Scrabbling about in the free festival for fuck all? Do I seem in control of anything in my life?’, he rants, a vein in his neck beginning to throb. And there’s the problem. Although there are moments of real bitter brilliance (‘They made my dead nan up to look like an old beaten-up goth hooker!’), Gordillo seems to resent the crowd from the kick-off.

Our suspicions are confirmed when he informs us, not so cryptically, that we’ve been a bad audience; when his jokes fall flat, he looks insulted. A charmless performance, and a twitchy, shambolic delivery fail to soften the stony faces staring back at him. The director of Eddie Izzard and Reginald D Hunter has forgotten that sometimes a crowd needs a bit of fluffing, even when they’ve not parted with any cash. Paying or not, an audience can still leave feeling ripped off. (Claire Sawers)

Laughing Horse@the Counting House, 667 7533, until 25 Aug (not 21), 5pm, free.