Hello there. For those of you who don't know me, my name is Bobby Carroll. This will be my twenty second year at the Fringe and I'm an Edinburgh resident for the other 11 months too. In the past, I have been a new comedian, a well-reviewed comedian, an average comedian, a poorly reviewed comedian, a failed comedian, a former comedian, a tech, a tour support, a tour manager, a promoter and a booking agent. There's not many roles on the British comedy scene I haven't done over the years.

Semi-famous people nod "Hello" to me on the street, very talented people happily let me buy them a drink and then quickly wander off to talk to someone who can actually further their career. But what I have always been, whether insider or outsider, is a punter. A lover of live comedy. These diary entries are an insight into my fringe viewing this year and what has excited me this August...

The poster has Erika Ehler floating towards us like a goddess. Resplendent in red satin. A sweaty softie bloke cowering in her approach. Don't worry though CIS HETs, the most wounding blow she lands on us boys is a marvellous but killer comparison between broke guys and a certain generation of console. What we have here is a gifted writer of self-effacing bon mots, hyper adept at grouping her sharp jokes together. Don't believe me? Look at the precocious 24-year old's unprecedented string of TV writers' room credits.

There is a languid dynamic to her delivery, reminiscent of a more confessional Todd Barry... so she needs audience energy to maintain momentum. She comes alive with a mischievous smirk when she jabs at a nasty truth. Her eyes dazzle behind retro librarian spectacles whenever a punch toys with a particularly brutal image. This unobtrusive viciousness pulls us all over to her side very early on. And that subtle vibe of mutual conspiracy carries her through some rocky moments when her heart isn't fully into later sections of the hour.

I am going to guess a director might have advised Ehler to include audio visual material and an audience participation skit. To give the show the shape and polish of "a debut Fringe show". Yet these were the rare few times she lost her natural flow and the warm connection she enjoyed within the room.

Always play to your strengths. When the structure of the gags is this constantly promising, and the personality so endearing yet unpredictable, the bells and whistles are unnecessary. Still in preview mode when I caught it, I would be fascinated to see how Femcel evolves by the end of the run; Ehler over the next few Augusts.

A sleep and a Chicken Skoop later... I found myself queuing with the polar opposite demographic the very next afternoon. Ehler's audience consisted seemingly of Tinder dates and open-minded rain dogs, a far cry from the broadsheet reading audience, looking for a safe bet, I jostled for a seat with, in the late sunshine. The difference was literally night and day. You couldn't fake a more telling juxtaposition as I walked up an ornate marble stairwell to Underbelly's Dairy Room's trad black box set-up.

Emmanuel Sonubi's debut hour Emancipated was never conceived for the cave above a meat restaurant. He walks onto stage with presence. The commanding former bouncer's physique drew gasps from the crowd. His actual persona is gentle, considered and patient. He reminds me of a friend down the pub who always has a softly spoken anecdote to tell, a down to earth opinion you cannot reasonably argue against.

A lot of his gigging stories reveal a career that is comedy mainstream with a capital M. Forces gigs, Live At The Apollo, cruise ships. Your standard esoteric Fringe acts can't conceive of the circuit this man plies his trade on. And yes, that means often his subjects and material can feel unchallenging, meat and potatoes. Yet reaffirmed values proved exactly what this busy room wanted and received.

His adept facial mugging sold many a punchline. He trusted his gags and gave them air to land. For example, he had zero truck for interruptions from the over excited American in the front row, refusing to allow her enthusiasm to derail his routines. He played nicely with the dichotomy of being both a bouncer and a musical theatre pro.

Authenticity, you can't put a price on it. This North Londoner's life experience has been varied enough that he's got the storytelling inventory, my personal preference would like to see him lean into relaxed spoken autobiography even more. Yet I doubt there'll be many TV executives who witness this showcase who will not exit trying to choose from the myriad of media friendly boxes Sonubi can fit safely into.

Still, after a couple of potent debuts it is nice to end my first 24 hours experiencing an act who is already the full package. At her fourth Edinburgh Fringe, Olga Koch is pure fire, zero pretension.

This is the first time I've managed to actually get a seat when watching her and her new show is so utterly jam packed that I am glad to not be worn out by the tsunami of ideas.

I know the two golden rules of comedy reviewing are never to spoil the jokes or comment on how a comedian looks but I'm pretty sure you can't help but think of Andy's wallpaper from a popular animation franchise as she wallops onstage in quite the bespoke outfit. That stage is hers, she utterly owns it, the smartest goof in town.

Blistering confidence but not over confidence, she knows she has the stand-up goods. She's celebrating "HoeCulture", considering a workable threesome and going to see a live Mamma Mia experience at the O2. Like I say, a torrent of ideas. Breathless repetition, poetry shared in the formalism of the anecdotes. But most importantly frothy, carefree filth.

I had a vantage point that let me see more of the audience than her, the whole room was beaming and on board, gazing up adoringly, openly seduced by one of the Monkey Barrel's bonafide A-List talents. Raucous laughter and no judgements, Koch is surely now a proven Diamond Standard mainstay on the festival landscape? Just Friends is a must see.