Day Two.

I'm Today was probably as good an example of a day in Edinburgh as I can muster. Comedy, music, buzzing energy, that mix of weirdoes and wannabes, grit and gilt - oh and loads of beer. 

Breakfast out started things off. I love eating breakfast out, makes you feel important. Light lunches are boring, tea is usually time better spent "eating a pint." Breakfast just works. Anyway, we then took a walk in the sun (the sun?!!), and took in the assorted vanilla milkshakes at the literary festival, before heading in the direction of Greyfriars (Greyfriars Bobby RIP - a story that still brings the potential of a tear to my eye). We had a beer to toast him and soldiered on. 

The last day of the Fringe meant it was our final chance to catch a few acts, so we decided upon some young upstarts and a seasoned pro. "Sheeps Skewer The News" was the former, based on the solo show "Capitalism" my dad had seen last year. It was basically a very meta, very oddball panel show. Some of it worked, the final round involving vinegar being poured in a chap's mouth having echoes of "Shooting Stars." We enjoyed it, along with the obligatory beers. It would've been rude not to swing by Brewdog on our way back, along with this cheesey family photo opportunity. 

We hurried off to watch Lewis Schaffer, a New York stand-up I've seen with my dad before. He's rude, obnoxious, self-deprecating, sarcastic and very funny (yes, we share some similarities). He always seems to play in some horrendous venues, this time in a fluorescent-lit sweat-box on the edge of a gallery, using a pallet for a stage. To give you a sample, he compared his penis to a Nazi in 1943 - still in love with Hitler, but starting to lose the faith. Yeah. 

He also managed to involve me pretty heavily in his act. When Rach ran out to pop the toilet, during a particularly lewd joke about his lady-boy ex, I told him she was leaving because Rach too had a penis. Long story short, he ended up kissing me on the mouth. Also turned out that, being a bit of a "comedian's comedian," Tom Stade was sat opposite me. The fact he approached me and said I was funny on the way out means I can now retire from my one performance at Edinburgh. 

After this we hurried off to see Sufjan Stevens at the Edinburgh Playhouse. If Schaffer was a "comedian's comedian," the Stevens is a "musician's musician." If that sounds pretentious then it probably is, but he is not particularly well known in the UK. Except he filled out a rapt Playhouse and played some of the most absorbing live music I will ever witness. I'll do it justice with a full review, as Bank Holiday breakfast is calling me.