Short Cuts to Edinburgh - The Alma Tavern Theatre

The two fringe-length shows preparing to travel up to Edinburgh fared well in front of an intimate Bristol audience. No one seemed too perturbed by the heat or stickiness in the tiny pub theatre which is always testiment to a reasonable show.

DODGY KEEPER - Harry Mottram

A one-man show depicting the hopes and shattered dreams of a struggling part-time goalie. The main action is athletically performed by Mottram himself, assisted only by a projected film which provides a welcomed injection of variety and context. The monologue anxiously rattles through hang-ups over gambling, drinking, ageing and relationships and the combination of prose and verse progresses with impressive fluidity. Mottram carries the play well, seamlessly switching between characters to complete conversations with colleagues and girlfriends. It's only a shame that he comes across as more convincing when he steps into the persona of other characters than when he is in his role of the protagonist. His performance feels just a little too 'nice' to be believable as the rather reckless sorry case the script suggests. One gets the sense that star, once a local goalie, is a little too close to the character to avoid tainting the performance with an element of himself.

CYRIL - Sally-Anne Hayward

Hayward was for the most part very amusing and worked well with the audience. The show focused upon village life and combined modern day observation with the protracted telling of a village-themed fairy tale. In all fairness this is still a work in progress so there has to be some leeway allowed for polishing, but the structure felt a little strained and at times it felt as if she lost the audience's support.

If the theatre rule that nothing should be 'too close' is to be applied to stand-up, then making us feel a little uncomfortable should be nothing to apologise for. Hayward's joke empathising with the murders of Fred West in Gloucester, however, (there really weren't many ways 'i couldn't help wishing he was still there' in reference to the quality of the people to be found there could be interpreted - please do feel free to offer any suggestions) went down like a gibbering dead fish. The recurrent disability jibes, especially relating to those with prosthetic legs also felt a bit unnaturally inserted - presumably for shock value, or due to some kind of phobia.

Hayward's finest talent lies in her real-life social observations. Her commentary upon the grimy realities of the day, covering topics such as parents, ex-boyfriends and depleting pubic hair were far wittier than the fairy-tale she deviated to narrate. Though cleverly conceived, it felt a bit like it belonged more to the realm of the children's books she confessed to having been so inspired by. In a more dramatic setting, it could have perhaps acted as an effective contrast to the intermittent anecdotes, but within the stand-up act, just made the story seem superfluous. It's difficult to create a sense of juxtaposition for an audience when they are presented with one woman talking on a bare stage.