Piff the Magic Dragon in . . . Jurassic Bark

Here’s the thing about Piff the Magic Dragon: if it wasn’t for his deadpan delivery, the show would fall flat. Many of the tricks can be identified as shop-bought gadgets, and it’s usually plainly obvious how larger set pieces are being carried out. And yet, Piff makes that part of the charm. He readily tells you how much he paid for each gadget; he seems totally underwhelmed when things go shakily right.

This aura of jaded cynicism is the perfect antidote to those eager-beaver performers you’ve been declining flyers from all day. His demeanour so suits the shabbiness of the show, you have to wonder: did he set out with this stage persona in mind, or did he start playing things down when he realised the show wasn’t flawlessly slick? Either way, there are much worse ways to spend an hour at the Fringe.