Jim Jefferies review

You can't help wondering what Jim Jeffries makes of John Bishop, the toothy Scouser who has come from nowhere to win a spot on prime-time telly, and is now sharing the grand McEwan Hall with the caustic Aussie. Do they meet in the bar of an evening, Bishop chatting about his new showbiz friends, Jeffries slagging off lesbians?

Actually the latter comic has been living in LA over the last few years so it's arguable whether he's even heard of the UK's new comedy sensation - not that he'd be jealous anyway. Jeffries is far too rude for mainstream telly but, slightly contrarily, is also a budding screen superstar in the States now.

He's still rocking up at the Fringe though, and rocking is an appropriate term as he bounds on in a classic Hicksian heavy-metal manner, but does then have the self-awareness to look suitably amused by it all. After a lengthy stint in the States, Jeffries seems pretty bloody relieved to be back (drinking) on stage in Scotland. And that's the vague theme of this year's show, Alcoholocaust: Jeffries getting progressively drunker, bemoaning the American attitude to drinking, and bemoaning lots of other things along the way, including ladies who love ladies and religious groups who object to the term 'Alcoholocaust'.

And it's painfully funny. Being a liberal-minded kind of chap at a Jeffries gig is a bewildering business as he pushes the moral compass as far south as it can go, so you find yourself thinking 'no, too much, I'm not laughing at that.' Then three seconds later you're covering your face and pissing your pants. THEN he backtracks cleverly and calls you a hypocrite.

Jeffries is comfortable enough with his Edinburgh audience to talk at length about his big-time US experiences without falling into the old Billy Connolly 'but I'm still a shipworker from Glasgow' trap. In fact there's a nice routine here comparing his own burgeoning lust for glory since becoming a stand-up to the more limited aspirations of a poverty-stricken African... ok, so that sounds shit on paper but worry not, he's not gone all Sting. It's just a rant at westerners generally: get over yourselves.

The lengthy final story, about his trip to Melbourne to meet a couple of old friends, must be one of the most memorable at this year's Fringe. It's even quite sweet, despite featuring disabled people and hookers. He might just be mellowing.

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Jim Jefferies: Alcoholocaust listing