I couldn't help smiling when I heard that the former editor of The Evening Standard, Sir Max Hastings, was made to take part in a spot of audience participation during a recent performance of One Man, Two Guvnors. Hastings, seated in the front row, was plucked out and asked to help to lift a heavy trunk, all the while being mocked by the star James Corden. Great fun for Corden, great fun for the rest of the audience, but Hastings hated every second of the experience.

One of the reasons I smiled, of course, was out of relief that it was someone else and not me. At comedy gigs being selected for verbal and sometimes even physical mockery, is an occupational hazard. Critics are traditionally given aisle seats, a throwback to when they all had to leave promptly to file their overnight copy (the Standard is one of the few papers that still does this) but if I think there is a chance of being pounced upon I always opt for a safer seat in the middle of the row.

If I was on a psychiatrist's couch I might suggest this all goes back to one incident about fifteen years ago when Armando Iannucci and David Schneider were doing a gig and got me up onstage to join them spinning some plates. Except there were no plates and I had to mime the action, swivelling my hips with my hands above my head. Others were asked to do the same thing and seemed to enjoy the attention, I, like Mr Hastings, squirmed through every second of it. I guess that is why I'm a critic and not a performer.

Other punters, however, have suffered even worse fates. Confrontational clown Dr Brown has been known to throw things at fans, steal their food and drink and, in one show, get a (male) fan to take their shirt off so that he could smear suntan lotion all over his torso. Al Murray's Pub Landlord regularly tips lager over his front row. On reflection maybe I had a lucky escape.

This phenomenon seems to be a trend. Three of the shows nominated for the Foster's Comedy Award in Edinburgh last summer involved contributions from ticket-buyers. On the night I saw him, Aussie surrealist Sam Simmons tried to eject a fan from his show just for fun, while Nick Helm spent a portion of his brilliant show spooning a (male) fan on the floor. It is interesting to note that it tends to be men who get selected. In the above examples the mood might have been very different if a woman was the subject of the performer's attentions.

As for Adam Riches, who won the 2011 Fosters Award and transfers to the Soho Theatre next month, there is a school of thought that suggests he should share his prize money with the amateur participants variously kissed, pushed around and embarrassed, and who helped to make the show such a hit. Of course, if you weren't picked out it was a fantastic experience, but it was still a nervous one, as you spent the hour laughing but avoiding eye contact with Riches. This is the true meaning of schadenfreude – taking pleasure at the failure of others to avoid being made a figure of fun.

Audience participation is clearly here to stay. And it also looks as if fear of it runs in my family. Whenever my daughter comes to stand up shows with me her first question is always "will there be AP?" I'm afraid it looks like there will be a lot more AP in the future. And judging from the kind of AP one gets in stand-up comedy Sir Max Hastings actually had a lucky excape.

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As the Edinburgh Fringe Festival draws to a close I've been thinking about my highlights here. One of the best days involved comedy but also high drama as a team of comedians took on a team of Industry bods and critics in the second Comedians v Industry Golf Tournament. One of the participants the last time this took place in 2007 was MacKenzie Taylor, who sadly died last year, so the tournament was played as a tribute to him.

We all assembled at Linlithgow's immaculate Kingsfield Golf Club first thing last Tuesday morning. The draw was made and I was paired with Sun writer Tommy Holgate against stand-ups Carl Donnelly and Chris Martin. The likes of Fred MacAulay, Alex Horne, Tom Price and Stewart Francis followed, against industry bigwigs including promoters/producers Mick Perrin and Tim Payne.

The rain did us a favour and stayed away, while the club did everything to accommodate us. I was lent a bag of shiny Taylor Made clubs which put my rubbish set back in London in the shade. The nine-hole course was in perfect condition. The fairways were smoother than some of the greens I've putted on in the capital over the years.

But it was also an exciting, challenging course, perfect for aggressive match play. To keep things interesting everyone would drive off the tee and then each team would alternate strokes on the best drive. Tommy Holgate had been a team captain in Nottingham in his teens and as he whacked his first drive out of sight it was easy to see why. The hole was duly conceded without us even having to putt.

This was surely going to be a doddle for the industry. But that was not taking into account my feeble iron shots. I came a particularly cropper on the fifth hole, which involved driving over a burn not once, but twice. When it came to my  attempt I totally fluffed it. Luckily my iron was so bad it did not even reach the water. Tommy Holgate then channelled his inner Ballesteros and played a miracle shot, hitting the water, skimming off it and onto the edge of the green.

Carl Donnelly was very good too – he says he played a lot as a teenager until he discovered fags, booze and women – and Chris Martin was also useful. Our game swung backwards and forwards until we got to two holes before the end and the comedians were two up with two to play. Somehow, thanks to the quality clubs and a bit of luck, I managed to land my team's ball on the penultimate green in two, while Donnelly and Martin were stuck in the rough. It was back to one up with one to play as we reached the last hole.

I'd like to say I halved the game with an inspired putt across the length of the green but to be honest the pressure was off by then, as Chris and Carl had got firmly lodged in a bunker. By the time they were out I could have hit my putt all the way to Leith and we would have probably won the hole thanks to Tommy's brilliance, so our match was halved.

As the rest of the games concluded the final result could have gone either way too. But I hate to say it, the comedians came out on top, winning two of the four matches. Organiser Richard Bucknall added up the strokes too (I suspect to see if he could swing a victory for the industry that way instead) but the comedians finished ahead on strokes too, 177 to 182,

It was all great fun though. Like the best golf tournaments played competitively but in good spirits. Thanks to Richard for organising what should now become an annual event. And thanks to Kingsfield for allowing a bunch of jokers to invade your lovely course. It may turn out to have been an expensive day for me though. After borrowing those pristine clubs which helped me to play the game of my life I think I'm going to have to invest in a new set for myself.

Not a lot of surprises on this year's Foster's Comedy Award shortlist of – this is the order of the names popping into my head right now – Andrew Maxwell, Josie Long, Nick Helm, Adam Riches, Chris Ramsey and Sam Simmons. But it is a very strong list in a year that is consistently great if not classic. Shame there was no Bo Burnham or Daniel Kitson, but as Arthur Askey once said, every generation throws up a few geniuses and a lot of crap.

I guess the only wildcard there is Australia's Sam Simmons. And he really is a wildcard, a comedian who uses his performances as a kind of primal therapy, laying his personal life, thoughts and feelings bare onstage. Chris Ramsey would have also been a surprise if I hadn't seen his show on Sunday night. He's a new name to me, but the 25-year-old from South Shields has the comedic chops of someone much older. His influences are a little too apparent – Russells Kane and Howard in particular – but if you are going to be influenced why not choose the best influences?

Nick Helm and Adam Riches were the two acts I'd been expecting to do well this year. I haven't heard a bad word said about them all Festival. One person said they preferred Helm's debut last year, but then they thought that was the best show they'd ever seen, so it was always going to take some beating. It's interesting that both of those shows are very full-on when it comes to audience participation. I usually advise shy retiring types to lurk in the back row, but I'm not even sure you are safe in the back row when Helm and Riches are on the rampage.

On the night I saw Riches he got a man up onstage and then sent him outside on the pretext collecting a bottle of wine. Once he was gone Riches wrenched the man's wife's arm so hard to get her onstage I thought it was going to come out of its socket. Helm, meanwhile, doesn't invite people onto the stage either, he terrorises them into joining him. It takes a certain skill to get people to chip in and I've often wondered what would happen if Helm or Riches tried their technique on someone who didn't want to play ball. But they both have such an instinctive feel for the right person that I guess it rarely happens. i also wonder whether their full-on, turbo-thruster style would work in a big theatre – never mind the O2 Arena – but let's cross that bridge later. In their tiny whites-of-the-eyeballs Edinburgh venues they are mesmerising.

Until last night I'd have said that Helm was the favourite for the award by a whisker, but then I saw Josie Long and Andrew Maxwell back-to-back. Both have been nominated before, both have gone through periods of disillusionment with the Fringe and both have come back stronger. And most interestingly, both have delivered highly charged political shows. Josie Long's tirade against the Tories is not a massive surprise as last year's show was all about her belated political awakening, but in this show there is much more focus to her anger.

The book-loving, countryside-loving comedian seems to have taken the cuts personally as she has seen libraries closed and trees privatiesed ("How do you privatise a tree?" she asks, which suddenly sounds like a fair question). Long is furious, but furious with a smile. It's a great show and very focussed on current affairs, where last year still drifted into eccentric whimsy and photographs of Americans obsessed with their breakfasts. I think she really had a good chance of winning the award this year.

But then so does Andrew Maxwell. Having been on the panel myself I know that there is always a wariness about nominating someone for a second time. There's always a danger of it feeling like a long service medal. Maxwell came very close to being nominated a number of times and then picked up his first nomination in 2007.

Maxwell has always been good, but this year's show is a bit of a minor revelation. There is less ageing stoner humour, more considered gagsmithery about the state of the nation. He has become his very own rapid-response answer to the riots, commenting on the possibility that the government might send in the troops by reminding the audience what happened when the government sent the troops into Ireland. "That's just what we need now, a black IRA." Sure, he can be over the top at times, but he does it with style and grace, taking occasional sips out of something from an onstage drinks cabinet that looks like a gypsy caravan.

So who will the winner be? Your guess is as good as mine, but here I go. Maxwell deserves it for doing his best and most relevant show yet, Long deserves it for her sheer passion and belief. Helm deserves it for simply being the freshest new talent to emerge in recent years. Riches deserves it for being a sheer force of nature – and because he was in the running a few years ago until he broke his leg by slipping on some probiotic yoghurt. Simmons deserves it for being different to everybody else and Ramsey deserves it for delivering one of the most heartwarming endings to a Fringe show in years.

So, my verdict? You couldn't get a cigarette paper between them. Although I'd love to be on the panel this year I also don't envy the judges when they convene on Saturday morning to do the final countdown. All are deserving winners. They might as well toss a coin. Or can we call it a six-way draw please?

Two weeks into the Fringe and I've got a large pile of used tickets and a blister. I've also got a large pile of notes written on separate pieces of paper. I know journalists are supposed to carry notebooks wherever they go, but let me explain. I used to be one of those journalists who carried a notebook wherever they went, but a couple of years ago I left an almost full notebook in the Pleasance Courtyard. Like a nervous spy I was terrified it would fall into enemy hands. Richard Herring might finally find out what I really thought of him. Amazingly I went to the box office the following day and it had been handed in. Someone had clearly read it because a note was stuck on the front: "Looks like some kind of journalist." If I ever write my autobiography that would make a good title. Some kind of journalist.

Anyway, there is not enough room in the paper to review all the shows I've seen so I wanted to do a whirlwind write-up of the rest. Some deserve more space, of course, and, hopefully when they transfer to London I will expand on what I've written. Some, however, I may not mention. Please don't take it personally. It probably either means you don't follow me on Twitter so I'm sulking, have forgotten I saw you (let me know if this is the case and I'll try to rectify the situation) or I left my notes in the theatre. In fact I saw a great show at the Underbelly yesterday afternoon, John Osborne's John Peel's Shed, and did just that. By a bizarre coincidence I found myself booked into the same room at the end of the evening to see a double act, Dregs, and when I arrived there was only one seat left. It was the same seat I'd sat in earlier and sure enough my notes were still there on the floor. Coincidences like that do tend to happen on the Fringe. I heartily recommend John Peel's Shed. It is a gentle tale of one man's passion for obscure music and the radio which has been compared to the work of Daniel Kitson (who was in the audience for the same performance, checking out the competition). It is not as good as Kitson, but then few storytellers are. As for Dregs, they are asking for trouble with a name like that, but they were nowhere near as bad as expected. They've got a weird older guy who looks like Kevin Eldon's dad as their stooge and they've got a pretty rib-tickling oddball finish. Catch them in a few years and the rest of the show might be pretty rib-tickling too.

Another show left its mark for the wrong reason. On a horrible wet day I went to see Josh Howie at The Stand. There were seven people in the audience and only two had paid. Howie noticed me and I thought of offering to move to the very back of the room so that he couldn't see me scribbling, but I thought that might make things worse. They got worse anyway. The two people who had paid were a Scottish long-term married couple who did not get Howie's north London neurotic schtick. The concept of the show was Howie trying to establish that he might be a dick but at least he wasn't an arsehole. The theory was promptly torpedoed by Mrs Scottish when she said that dick was worse than arsehole. Howie never quite recovered from this, though it might be harsh to criticise him for being self-obsessed as that comes with the stand-up comedy job description. There were a few droll lines, but the show seemed to rely too much on his obsession with posteriors. A little too bottom-heavy.

Just browsing through my ticket stubs there are lots of shows that have had their moments, but didn't quite have that Fringe X Factor. When I first saw Henry Paker a few years ago he reminded me of Leonard Rossiter. Then he seemed to be developing a surreal side and turning into Harry Hill. Now he has found his voice. Well, actually he has found another voice. In Cabin Fever Paker seems to be turning into Eddie Izzard, complete with ums, aahs and lengthy digressions. When I came out of the gig I was standing by the wall saying this to a friend and when I turned the corner Paker was there having a crafty fag, so he probably knows what I think already. He has a lot of promise and I shall definitely be seeing him again next year. Mainly to see if he has morphed into Ross Noble.

Of the big shows I've enjoyed, Tim Vine's Chat Show stood out. The master of the one-liner has always needed something to break up the sheer relentless of his belly laughs and he has found the perfect method here – intersperse them with bits that aren't funny. I'm not saying this show is low budget, but the guests are members of the audience who have paid to be there. On the day I was in a couple of punters were actually amusing while one had such a thick Scottish accent he may have been funnier than Tim Vine but I couldn't tell. I'd also highly recommend Dave Gorman, who is back to doing what he does best – powerpoint presentations. There is no overarching high concept or quest this year, just wall-to-wall jokes. I'll be saying more about Gorman when he hauls his video screen to London in the autumn.

Oh look, here's a theatre ticket. Blind Summit do great things with puppets but their latest show, The Table, is definitely not for children. It is not particularly rude, it just deals with adult issues of existentialism and the abyss of nothingness that we all face in the end. Not exactly Peppa Pig. But as I said, it is very funny and the main puppet, with his big head,  hesitations and deliberations made me thing of Tommy Cooper. The puppeteers also do a great trick with picture frames and tell an entire movie in a few minutes with the aid of pictures on card. Still on the puppet front another piece of inspired lunacy came from Australia's Sammy J. His shows are always great and Rickett's Lane has already won an Award at the Melbourne Comedy Festival. Sammy J stars alongside a purple puppet called Randy and despite the fact that Randy has no features apart from eyes and a mouth the puppetry is so slick and quick – respect to Heath McIvor under the table – you almost forget he is not human. Even when Sammy J squashes his face together so that it is the size of a cricket ball. One of the most side-splitting hours of uncomplicated fun on the Fringe.

Another show that was great but wasn't exactly comedy was the immensely amiable beatboxing maestro Shlomo's Mouthtronica. This is a man that can do things with his mouth that defy logic. Computer samples and loops help, but give this man a microphone and he could put whole bands on the dole. It was also a perverse pleasure to see middle-aged men standing up and dancing to his D-I-Y dubstep. Not me, of course, I was the coolest guy in the room, hiding at the back taking my notes while Shlomo rattled off his notes onstage.

I also loved Isy Suttie's show Pearl and Dave, a tale of two soulmates rediscovering each other years later via Facebook, juxtaposed with Suttie's musing on her own relationship history. It's a lovely, warm, intimate show but with its songs and narrative it feels a little like a work-in-progress for a musical she would like to write. I've said it before and other critics are saying it now, wit her quirky songs and penchant for the eccentric underdog, Suttie is like a young Victoria Wood, which is no bad thing at all. She used to do a very good routine featuring Amy Winehouse stuck down a well. Not tasteless, just odd, but she probably won't be doing that one in the future.

To be continued.....

Part Two...

Alex Horne always sets himself huge challenges when he does an Edinburgh show and he has surpassed himself this year by cramming an entire lifetime into an hour for 7 Years in the Bathroom. In fact it is may be too much of a challenge. He has to cram so many ideas in – apparently we spend 7 years of our life doing what the title says, for instance – that some gags get lost in the mix. But along the way he strips off (close your eyes), has his portrait painted and gets married. And he also cooks and eats an entire microwaved Rustler burger in front of a live audience. Now that really is an achievement. By the way, Horne's old mucker Tim Key, who won the Edinburgh Comedy Award in 2009, also has a brilliant new show in the same room later in the evening. I'll be saying more about Masterslut later in the week and when it comes to London later in the year. Needless to say it's a hot ticket. The spoof poet with knobs on is easily making one of this year's biggest splashes.

Another comedian who is partial to a highish concept is Richard Herring. His latest show, What Is Love Anyway? explores the nature of love and was prompted by a remark suggesting that a belief in love is just as irrational as a belief in God. Like Alex Horne but without the gimmicks or burgers, Herring also squeezes a lot into his hour. So much so that he sometimes gets breathless and can make it hard for the audience to keep up. But it is worth the effort. There are some inspired callbacks here and proceedings build to a climax that is comic, moving and, for me, surprising (being a fan of his daily blog I could see some gags coming, but not all of them). If this isn't Herring's best show yet that's only because his show a couple of years ago was magnificent and set a very high benchmark. But as that one isn't on go and see What Is Love Anyway? Don't be put off by the rather naff heart surgery poster – I presume it's ironic but I'm not absolutely sure...

Herring has beeen coming to Edinburgh for well over two decades now, but he is no showbiz veteran compared to Paul Daniels, who is doing a show in a lecture theatre at the Assembly Rooms. It feels like a bit of an odd career move for the former TV superstar, but maybe it is a canny attempt to get some credibility and a younger following and it is certainly a jolly show that should appeal to all ages. As one would expect the magic tricks are excellent, but I have to add that Daniels was the first performer I saw who made a topical gag about the riots, commenting than in American cop shows veteran police officers say "have you been in 'Nam?" Maybe soon they will be doing it in English crime dramas too – "Have you been in 'Nam? Tottenham?"

Terry Alderton is another veteran, albeit not of the same vintage as Paul Daniels. Alderton was nominated for a Perrier Award in the nineties, landed a mainstream job presenting the Lottery Show then disappeared back into the clubs. In recent years he has re-emerged with a distinctive act which involves turning his back on his audience and talking to his invisible alter ego. It can be disturbing, scary and inventive, but on the night I was in it did not quite come alive. And most of his act did not seem that different from his nineties set. No Chris Eubank impression, maybe, but his rave dancing felt familiar and a lot of his audience interaction would have worked as well on a stag night as a Fringe show. His miming to an old Hazel O'Connor hit – you can probably guess the one  – was a little too similar to Lee Evans' Bohemian Rhapsody routine for me, but the audience loved it. A true crowdpleaser, but in a full-length show not quite as reinvented as I'd hoped.

Sometimes comedy is simply subjective. You love something while others hate it. I suspect Shooting Stars scorer Angelos Epithemiou divides the nation, but his fans at the Pleasance could not get enough of him. I don't know which came first, Angelos having a Vic & Bob sensibility and thus landing the job or landing the job and developing a Vic & Bob sensibility, but his show was very much in their spirt, from the cheap props to the beyond surreal humour. I can't say what's waggish about the priceless way he hits the bongos or does his DJ interlude, it is just stupidly waggish. And as for the end in which he mimes to an old Sweet hit, it is everything that Terry Alderton's Hazel O'Connor send-up isn't – disturbing and hilarious at precisely the same time.

Another occasionally disturbing act that has divided the critics is female duo Toby. They are real-life sisters with an onstage rivalry that maybe has its seed in a genuine sibling clash (particularly judging by the home movie footage towards the end). One wants to be a star and plays an egomaniacal character who is clearly unstable, the other plays the more balanced half of the act pushed into the shadows. The sketches aren't always great and the very dark ending does not quite work, but there's a creative energy and inventive spirit here that suggests great things. I also have a soft spot for them because when I arrived at the venue I wasn't sure if I was in the right place and I was able to say to the usher "Toby or not Toby? That is the question."

The sketch shows this year are definitely a mixed bag. Bad Bread, for instance, are three men who are so young they resemble a sperm and two embryos. They've got bags of gusto but not quite as many new ideas. One sketch in which they play three characters of varying ages talking about their respective lives was clever but to me was very derivative of the old John Cleese/Ronnie Barker/Ronnie Corbett "I know my place" sketch. As I wondered if they'd ever seen this they did another sketch which literally was an update/homage to the Cleese/Barker/Corbett classic. Nice to see they know their comedy past, now they have to work out their comedy future.

Fringe regulars Pappy's are absent this year, but bearded Matthew Crosby – forget my quote he is using on the poster that compares him to Woody Allen and Groucho Marx, these days he looks more like a boyish Rolf Harris – is making his solo debut with a cuddly little set, Adventure Party, that is both similar in style to Pappy's and very different. At one early point I feared that it was going to consist of sketches that maybe Pappy's had rejected, but then it quickly got very good indeed as Crosby discussed growing up in Bromley, showed us some hideous old photos of himself and explored the differences between being a nerd and a geek. He also made great use of visuals and had a great quick-witted rapport with his audience. He also had a lovely Nando's story, but blotted his copy book a little for me by admitting that the story didn't have a strong pay-off.  A memorable solo debut that shows that he's either the McCartney or Lennon of Pappy's – probably McCartney, given his innate niceness – and certainly not Ringo. Incidentally Holly Walsh – super show, will hopefully say more later this week – also has a Nando's gag and her set, Hollycopter in the same Pleasance Cellar. Maybe they should rename it The Nando's Room.

I expected great things from Brett Goldstein Grew Up in a Strip Club and was impressed, but also a bit disappointed. This is the true story of how the 21-year-old Goldstein found himself running a strip club in Marbella bought by his dad and a friend when they were having a midlife crisis. For a nice lad who had studied feminism this all came as a bit of a shock and when criminals appeared on the scene it was even more shocking. Early in the show he says this experience was going to be his Stand By Me rite of passage, but it soon started to resemble a scene from Scarface. I'd been told the show was powerful, but I actually think he pulled his punches. Some lovely turns of phrase, but somehow you could see how things were going to progress. It needed more of a twist. Maybe his dad coming on at the end as Des Bishop's dad did in last year's show.

Meryl O'Rourke's show is called Bad Mother and I assumed she was describing herself, but she was also describing her own mum, who arrived as a Jewish refugee from Nazi Germany in 1939. There aren't a huge number of giggles in this show but it is a fascinating story. Particularly the way her mother was hideously over-protective and controlling and dragged her teenage daughter on celebrity-spotting trips. The result of this was a meeting with actor Neil Pearson that has a curious echo of a story Richard Herring tells about Julia Sawalha in his show. O'Rourke's show started slowly – 2.45pm is probably not the best slot for Holocaust gags – but by the time it ended I could have done with some more. Not for anyone expecting a Michael McIntyre gagfest, but a journey worth sticking with.

Stuart Goldsmith is currently on ITV1's stand-up search Show Me The Funny and if he survives this week's show he makes it onto the final. You only see small clips of him on ITV1 so his one hour set gives a much better sense of his potential. As a comedian with  good looks, slick delivery and an affable, self-mocking OCD-ish persona he sure has plenty of potential. Like O'Rourke's set Goldsmith's show is also about neurosis, in this case how he is paranoid about being involved in a crisis and what he would do if he was in one. There is a nice arc to his story and lots of llustrative detail and banter with the audience. He talks at length about being a compulsive worrier – he recalls one dilemma about buying a mallet that actually reduced him to tears – but with his talent I don't know what he has to worry about.

With so many character comedians, sketch groups and downright weird, in-yer-face shows (my two top tips are the utterly full-on Nick Helm and Adam Riches) Josh Widdecombe's straightforward stand-up show on life's little – and big – irritations felt like a veritable palate-cleansing sorbet. Good, smart, clean fun, plus a witty Laser Quest routine.

And so there is a round-up of nearly all the shows I've seen that haven't been reviewed in their own right. I'll be mopping up the rest by the end of this week. It's a funny Fringe indeed and one that is full of coincidences. Two of the shows I saw today – from Meryl O'Rourke and the hotly-tipped uber-slick sketch group Idiots of Ants – referred to genital blood blisters. Typical. You wait ages for a gag about genital blood blisters and then two come along on the same day...

My blister that I mentioned at the start, in case you'd forgotten, is on my foot.

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They call it the Edinburgh Bubble and it has never been more of a bubble than this. While London blazed last night comedians in Edinburgh were trying to sell tickets to their shows, jealously looking at the five stars reviews their rivals had received and generally thinking of nothing but how they are going to fare at the Fringe Festival.
It will be interesting to see if this changes over the next few days. Comedians have been spending months getting their shows right. Now they have a chance to give their shows a topical edge. In fact some stand-ups, such as fast-talking satirist Andy Zaltzman, who fronts the show Political Animal at The Stand, would be remiss if he didn't address the issue. I'll let you know how he gets on. In the competitive world of Fringe comedy, there are probably agents out there frantically texting their acts now to say "quick, get some riot material in your act so that we can tell the press how cutting edge and on trend you are. It could be just the thing to get you a Foster's Comedy Award."
Ah yes, this, of course, is what comedians in Edinburgh are really thinking about (though maybe not only this. As Arthur Smith once said, the real Fringe mantra is "I'll get drunk, I'll get laid, I'll get spotted, i'll get paid"). I wrote a while ago about the fact that the Fringe might be losing its influence because so many comedians are getting their big breaks by getting onto the proliferation of comedy-based television shows. As well as the likes of Live at the Apollo we've currently got Show Me The Funny going head-to-head with the Fringe on ITV1 on Monday nights. With the show being based around weekly tasks it's a shame that one of the tasks isn't set at the Edinburgh Festival. That would have been a nice way of linking the two things together. And some of the competitors are in Edinburgh anyway. Patrick Monahan, Stuart Goldsmith and Tiffany Stevenson are all doing shows up here. Though judging by the modest crowd at Tiffany Stevenson's show on Sunday afternoon their TV appearances are not really helping ticket sales.
At the launch of the Foster's Edinburgh Comedy Awards, gong boss Nica Burns drew attention  to the fact that former winners and nominees were doing so well in the arts. Daniel Kitson is at the Cottesloe in the autumn (already sold out – anyone got a spare please?), Tom Basden has a play at the National and Tim Minchin's musical version of Matilda comes to the West End in the autumn. Comedians are simply everywhere. and while he comedians on television simply get the nation laughing, Minchin, Kitson and Basden are pushing boundaries.
And maybe that is what makes Edinburgh still as fascinating as ever. It is not just about discovering the next jokebox-style Michael McIntyre (who, lest we forget, was also a Best Newcomer Nominee in 2003) it is about discovering someone truly talented and special who does something truly creative with that talent. That can of course mean just telling excruciatingly funny gags, but it can also mean something far more exciting. Edinburgh – and the incentive of the Awards that are part and parcel of the Festival – is where comedians get the chance to do longer shows, stretch boundaries and break barriers. Anything goes in Edinburgh, from confessionals to character comedy to silent comedy.
Those who do this best will be more than delighted to win the Foster's Comedy Award, even  though the prize is only £10,000 compared to the stinking £100,000 the winner of show Me The Funny will receive. And despite TV greedily snapping up stand-ups faster than you can say "sausage machine" I can't see the prestigious status of the Edinburgh Comedy Award waning for some time yet.

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The Edinburgh Fringe Festival kicks off later this week, but if you can't get to it, don't want to go to it, or simply prefer to experience your comedy on your doorstep and sleep in your own bed at night there is also the Camden Fringe, which gets in first by starting tonight. Now in its sixth year, the Camden Fringe gives established names a chance to put the final touches to their shows before they head north, gives newer performers a chance to stretch themselves with longer sets without breaking the bank and gives veterans who have simply had enough of Edinburgh something to do over the summer.

Gigs take place as far north as Highgate and as far south as Bloomsbury. Tonight's highlights include diminutive dynamo Matt Kirshen and self-styled space-loving geek Helen Keen honing their latest shows. Keen's show is actually a preview for her Edinburgh 2012 set, which must be some kind of record. There's also Scott Capurro being darker and more warped than ever in his latest taboo-bashing monologue. 

Future tips include Leisa Rea, from top class musical double act Adams and Rea doing a solo show on 13 & 14 August. Adams and Rea themselves are also back with a greatest hits bonanza on 28 August. And look out also for Hal Cruttenden, a smart, seasoned stand-up who has been there, done that in Edinburgh and will be politely raging in north London from 18 - 21 August. 

Your best option, however, might just be to go to the Camden Fringe's website, stick a pin in and buy a ticket. Everything is interesting, nothing is too expensive. and who knows, you might spot a star of the future and be able to boast to your friends that you had your finger on the comedy pulse without doing an 800-mile round-trip to Scotland.

Follow Bruce Dessau on Twitter @brucedes

This week's gig of the week is not for the faint-hearted. But it is for comedy fans who like their laughs to come at them from a decidedly sideways tangent. Doctor Brown and New Art Club, two of the most unusual acts on the circuit, preview their forthcoming Edinburgh sets in a double header at Camden Town's Invisible Dot Club on Tuesday. The ticket price of £7 also includes a mid-show barbecue.

Doctor Brown, no to be confused with Zadie Smith's comedian brother Dr Brown, takes clowning and silent comedy to extremes. When I saw him in Edinburgh last year he lobbed olives at his audience, slapped one fan, shared a banana with another and got another to rub sun tan lotion all over him. It's an odd, disturbing, even nightmarish performance but a compelling one that has attracted a loyal following. Easily the most unpredictable act around at the moment, it'll be interesting to see how he follows 2010's Fringe breakthrough in 2011.

New Art Club are equally distinctive in their own very different way. Tom Roden and Pete Shenton are classically trained dancers who have parlayed their contemporary ballet steps into physical comedy. Some lazy critic – me, probably – has compared them to Morecambe and Wise and Vic and Bob and you can see their point. There's a great chemistry between the duo and they like nothing better than being daft, but there is much more to New Art Club than the standard straight man/funny man dynamic. Discover what it is for yourselves on Tuesday.

Not tempted yet? Did I mention that free barbecue?

Follow Bruce Dessau on Twitter @brucedes

Beat the start-the-week blues and support vulnerable young Londoners at the same time by going to a great gig this Monday in aid of the King's Cross New Horizon Youth Centre. Benefit gig bills can sometimes be a mixed bag, but this one is positively A List. Even the venue is royal – The Prince Edward Theatre.
And it's another Edward that hosts, with the mouthwateringly mirthful Ed Byrne compering. Ed's fellow Irish mate Dara O'Briain – they used to call each other during intervals to compare notes when they were touring simultaneously – also chips in. He might only be doing a short spot, but 10 minutes of the fast-talking Dara crams in more punchlines than lesser comedians manage in a lifetime.
As if that wasn't enough Al Murray will be pitching in in the guise of the Pub Landlord. Murray has been on terrific, barnstorming form recently and these smash-and-grab cameos really give him a chance to get stuck into the crowd and then get out fast before they know what has hit them. Bankers, IT workers and women beware, Murray has your card marked.
All this and Lucy Porter, Dan Antopolski, Tom Allen, Simon Evans, Matt Kirshen and JJ Whitehead. Plus cycling, multi-coloured-tie-wearing C4 newsreader Jon Snow revealing yet another talent – he will be singing. Well, I guess there has to be a downside to even the best charity gigs.

It would probably be possible to turn this column into Benefit Gig of the Week and be spoilt for choice. Comedians love a benefit. They put the fun in fundraisers. They get a chance to keep match fit, they get a chance to try out new material and they get a chance to attract new fans who may not have come to see them in particular. Oh, and they raise money for a good cause, which gives comedians a nice warm feeling in their tummy after the gig to make up for the butterflies in their tummy before the gig.
This week's best benefit is at the Bloomsbury Theatre on Tuesday and is raising money for a Cancer Centre for University College Hospital, just a funny bone's throw away. Compere is turbo-charged Scot Susan Calman, who packs a hell of a lot of punch(lines) into a very small frame – and she can stand up straight in a London taxi, fact fans. Paul Foot's off-the-wall lunacy is an acquired taste, but one well worth acquiring (though I still don't think his haircut is ever going to catch on).
There really is something for every taste here. Miles Jupp we should all know from his role on sitcom Rev and various posh-boy turns on panel games. Diane Spencer is one of a new breed of feisty female comedians who is tipped for greatness. Diane Morgan is pretty good too. Pete Firman is an impeccable sleight-of-hand magician with a lovely line in daft banter and Paul Chowdhry is a scalpel sharp storyteller. What more do you want? Blood? You can get that down the road at the hospital.

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We live in fast times. There is too much television to watch, too many things to do and not enough hours in the day. So what better solution than to cram a lot into a little window in your diary. With the Edinburgh Festival starting in barely a month there is a chance to get a taste of the wealth of comedy talent on offer in London on Tuesday night at the annual Fast Fringe at the Leicester Square Theatre. And not just a couple of acts, but a glorious 28, who will each be doing three-minute snippets of their forthcoming Fringe shows.

Arthur Smith is your genial host and among those appearing are Phil Nichol, Ava Vidal, Jason Cook, Diane Spencer and Isy Suttie. I've been to these Fast Fringe shows before and while they might not give acts a chance to build much momentum or develop a narrative arc, they do give you a chance to decide whether you want to investigate a lot of turns a little further at a budget price of £15, which works out at around 53p an act. Short sets are a real test – maybe not ideal for your slowburn stand-up like Norman Lovett, but a wonderful chance for a bit of smash-and-grab get-in-quick-and-get-out fun.

And incidentally, even if you are not planning to go to Edinburgh, most of the acts will be doing full previews in London over the next month, so this is a great opportunity to plan some gig-going even if you aren't considering the 800-mile round-trip to Scotland. And, of course, when the acts are doing their two-hour shows at the 02 Arena in a few years time you can say "Well, of course, they were much better when I saw them doing their 180-second set."

Follow me on Twitter @brucedes