Andrew Maxwell review

The English riots were clearly a bit of a pain in the arse for many comics at this year's Fringe, as the crisis blew up over that first crucial weekend when the previews gave way to the full-priced shows and their material was finally wedged firmly in place, like an overfilled case, never to be tampered with again. It was almost as if the rioters did it just to make a load of vaguely topical comedians' shows suddenly sound horribly dated.

No such worries with Andrew Maxwell, who has managed to give over a great early chunk of his show to our thievery-based uprisings, and it's impressively funny, thoughtful stuff, told from the perspective of a chap coming to terms with getting older. He's a rock 'n' roll comic but also a father of two, an anti-establishment type who also likes staying at nice hotels, a man who followed the unfolding events with porn-like excitement, until he realised how close they were to his house.

If his life is gradually moving toward the more homely and middle-class - he does also throw himself off waves and cliffs when the chance arises, admittedly - Maxwell's comedy remains impressively pointy. This is a big venue to try to fill every night but he's packing them in while still testing the limits of good taste, fervently taking on topics that others would only flirt around. From race at the riots to the scarcity of female Muslim bank robbers, it's near-the-knuckle but all clearly coming from the heart, if also told with an impish grin and that incessant giggle.

Maxwell may be a devilish little bleeder but you'll get more thought-provoking opinion from this hour of stand-up than in any number of newspaper columns or ministerial statements. And more impressions of junkie couples lurching down the street. Maybe Mr Cameron should throw in a few of those.

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Andrew Maxwell: The Lights Are On listing