Reaching Out: Kim Noble connects comedy and isolation

Kim Noble might seem like a comedic misanthrope but his show You Are Not Alone is one of the most ambitious and anticipated shows this festival. And he doesn't care if you like it or not; just that you connect with it – whatever that means for you.

He is a professional antagonist as much as a comic. A mandatory traipse through the YouTube memory banks unearths his 2011 Channel 4 program: Noble and Silver. Where he and Stuart Silver brought their disorienting stage aesthetic to the idiot box: weaving interviews, cartoons and sketches together, akin to Chris Morris's Jam or Tim and Eric's work – without the amphetamine shrillness. A stroll through his website is the best intro; an archive of projects that revolve around his usual themes, with the acerbic edge ever-so-gently buffed. Among podcasts, stop-motion animation, and short films, there's his Pinterest account: Close Ups Of People on the Bus, documenting fragments of global transit with surprising grace.

It's hard to know what to expect.  Our interview was conducted via a dodgy Skype connection; the chances of a pixelated car crash more likely than an erudite debate on the poetics of the one-man-show. But the man who appeared on the other end of the line was laid back, self-deprecating and spoke candidly of well choreographed hecklers ("Although I don't encourage this – there was a time down here [in London] where six people bought tickets for a show and stood up, in sync and said : 'Kim Noble you're a fucking wanker' and all walked out. Now that's dedication to a cause."), his morbid fascination with the internet ("I found myself buying egg timers for an ex-girlfriend who lives in America who I haven't seen in three years because I found her wedding registry.") and his fear of returning to the Fringe.

Noble was last here in 2009 with Kim Noble Will Die, a show that dealt frankly with suicide and mental illness. Combining performance art, video and standup, he created a successful critical cocktail. Is he excited about coming back?

"Not excited at all and very worried," he responds, throwing his head into his hands. "I’m not very good at performing at all and the nature of the show is that it's not for everyone."

Edinburgh was previously kind to him, but that’s little consolation. He balks at being called successful. "I don't feel successful in any way or form. I feel like I'm starting out again. It's not like I'm living in a yacht off the south of France or got a film commision from the last show," he says. But, "I am lucky to be offered a theatre and to tell this story in front of people. And you can get away with stuff live more so than you can on television or film. There is also that immediacy of contact that is attractive and terrifying all at the same time."

When asked about the show, he sighs and quickly summarises: "I suppose it’s a bit of a fucked up way to connect with people… a desperation to connect with people. The starting point is isolation, but it's finding ludicrous ways not to be isolated. Like befriending your cashier in the supermarket for two years, or getting friendly with the takeaway guy, meeting people on the bus or you know talking to people via made up personas on the internet."

Noble's been testing the show in Europe, fine tuning it for its Edinburgh premiere. There is an intimacy I can see being uncomfortable for many, and his work can "ring alarm bells for people."

On 19 August, Noble will attempt to connect with Fringe audiences; shaking us from our tunnel-vision world; showing us that relationships with strangers and people on the peripheries seem absolutely necessary. As much as we think we're alone – especially in buzzing metropolises – we most definitely aren't. And Kim Noble is the one paying attention.