Wil Hodgson

You probably know what you'll be getting with former Perrier winner Wil Hodgson by now as he takes to the stage for his eighth Fringe run. His self-titled show picks up where he left off with his thoughtful and interesting diatribes into care bears and Chippenham very much in place.

Hodgson, as unapologetic about his material as ever, starts with a fifteen minute piece on dancehall reggae and its similarities to Eric Clapton. The cultural references, as ever, come thick and fast, ranging from personal anecdotes with no punchline to Hodgson's take on important things in his life, most notably cider, Judy Finnegans ample cleavage, and man boobs.

The audience seem entranced by what Hodgson has to say, but never really laugh. His monologues aren't aimed at anyone in particular, which only goes to add to his charm, but this form of alternative comedy isn't for everyone. The stream-of-consciousness is endearing but often leads him down a dead-end. Talking about three adverts from the 80s for ten minutes was a little overkill but as he seems to mention what's on his mind this may be axed from future shows.

Every set's bound to be different; unfortunately for Hodgson this one missed the mark too many times.