Edinburgh Fringe: Tuesday 18th August, 2026

My third visit to the Fringe, prompted by a desire to see Alex Edelman's new show.  

The M74/M8 was road-spray central until about halfway to Edinburgh, making the journey less pleasant than on previous occasions. At least it's dry in the capital. Disembarking the tram at West End, I look for the EICC, get a bit lost and decide to find somewhere for lunch first, choosing The Caley Picture House on Lothian Road. A former cinema, this unusual building features tiered levels overlooking a huge wall where the screen would have been. I desire a Caledonian burger, but the app informs me they're out of onion rings and asks if I'm happy to swap the missing items for more chips. No, I'm not. I pick something else. A waiter brings my drink, then later a waitress appears carrying two plates, asking the people in the booth beside mine if they'd ordered a chicken burger. They say no. She asks me. I say, "Yes, that's mine". There are six onion rings on the plate (along with the burger and chips).  She returns to the first table and asks if they ordered the Caledonian burger. They did. It has onion rings too. WTF?

I let it go. No point in dwelling on it. I have deeper wounds to wallow over. The editorial assessment of the novel I've been working on for six years returned yesterday. Thirteen pages: one page of what works, nine of what doesn't and three pages of queries over plot points/holes. The "What Doesn't" is a painful read. I've failed to write in the close voice of a teen girl, despite me pretending for ever so long that I could. There's more criticism, but they're just nails in the coffin. The book is dead. I'm grieving.  

So with this weighing on my mind, I attend my first show of the day, and my first show not from the Comedy section of the Fringe programme.

14:30 (1hr 20mins) 11½ Angry Men

Pentland Theatre in Pleasance at EICC. Ticket Price: £25

Blurb:

Edinburgh Fringe 2003's legendary classic 12 Angry Men returns, hilariously spoofed as 11½ very angry comedians attempt to decide the fate of a boy accused of heinous murder in 1950s NYC... Will a lethal German sausage save him? Or send him sizzling to Old Sparky? The jurors: Stephen K Amos, Joe Pasquale (Fringe debut!), Tom Stade, Spencer Jones, Mark Maier, Glenn Wool, JJ Whitehead, Ian Coppinger, Terry Alderton, Phil Nichol, David Calvitto and Owen O'Neill seek a unanimous verdict while the evidence against him stinks, but can they find their way to a conviction? Director: Guy Masterson.

There is a lot of comedic talent on the stage, but the best thing about this play is the Pentland Theatre's comfortable seating. I have space to stretch out with no one around me. Billed as hilarious, this play is almost completely bereft of laughs. It's the script that should be on trial pending execution. I'd have loved to have seen the serious version of this play that the comedians performed in 2003. This version is not entirely a waste of time, but it comes close. The final moment of the play provides a lovely comic visual before the blackout, so it ends well. 

17:30 (1hr) Alex Edelman: What Are You Going to Do

Cabaret Bar in Pleasance Courtyard. Ticket Price: £15

Blurb:

Alex Edelman's last Fringe show, Just for Us, earned an Edinburgh Comedy Award Best Show nomination and kicked off a journey that culminated in a run on Broadway and an HBO special – garnering him a Tony and an Emmy in the process. This summer, after stops in some of America's most prestigious theatres, he returns to the Pleasance for a two-week offering, heaving with jokes about things like seashells, an amputee hospital in Jerusalem, various deities and our personal responsibilities amidst global conflict.

As Alex arrives outside the venue, he bumps into Rosie Jones, who's just finished her show in the venue. He blows her kisses, but she insists on a hug. I'm surrounded by Americans in the queue. To be fair, Alex is American, so they are only supporting their countryman. Either that or they're here because they recognise how gifted he is as a comedian. I suspect the latter.

Inside, I find a seat beside two oldies in the second row (they got to skip the queue). The Blue Nile's "Tinseltown in the Rain" is playing, a salve reminding me my depression won't last. Oasis's Little By Little plays next. I'm getting the message. Cheer up, grumpy. 

This show is phenomenal. Even though Alex has a page of notes on the stool beside his pint of water, he delivers his material with passion, precision and pitch-perfect timing. His comic reversals are masterful, his stories fascinating. Big laughs.  

For example, while sitting at a table at a Christian Music Awards ceremony, surrounded by the pinnacle of Christian music artists, he's asked as a Jew what he thought about Jesus. Alex replies, "That Jesus is definitely in his Top 5 of Jewish magicians". Aghast, Jelly Roll says, "Top Five?" Alex responds, "Well, Harry Houdini would have been off that cross in under five minutes, juggling the nails, is all I'm saying, okay?" 

Or, as a hospital clown, Alex tried to entertain a boy with an amputated arm, only for the boy to reiterate that despite losing his arm,  Alex was still the worst thing that had ever happened to him. 

The show covers a breadth of topics, but ties up neatly at the end. What more do you want? A cure for insomnia? Yup, he's got that too.

19:30 (1 hr 30 mins) Tartan Ribbon Comedy Benefit 

Grand in Pleasance Courtyard. Ticket Price: £15 

Blurb:

The best night of comedy on the Fringe returns! Join us for a raucous night of laughter to raise much-needed funds for Waverley Care, Scotland's HIV and Hepatitis C charity. The Tartan Ribbon has become a much-loved staple of the Fringe each year, with this year's line-up including Larry Dean, Rosie Jones, Rhys James, Sam Nicoresti, Ayoade Bamgboye, Dane Buckley, Marty Gleeson and MC Dom McGovern. It's guaranteed to sell out, so book your tickets early!

After Alex's show, I nipped to the toilet, then joined the queue for the Tartan Ribbon Comedy Benefit at the Pleasance Grand, now in its thirty-fourth year. Ticket scanned, I'm given a yellow disc to return on the way in. It's a great system that allows smooth entry.

I find a fantastic seat in the third row in the middle of the middle section. Above the stage is a screen for live captioning. Host Dom McGovern, gay, camp and caustically funny, makes the most of the opportunity, repeating the C word like a machine gun for Claire the captioner to type. 

The talent performing at the benefit is top-notch. Rhys James, Larry Dean and Rosie Jones are the best-known, but everyone brings their A-game. When Ayoade Bamgboye is discussing losing her white virginity, mentioning phallic details, a baby at the back of the room cries, sending her into an embarrassing tailspin. When Dom returns as MC, he also notices the children present and immediately regrets his caption-swear tirade. Ah, the beauty of live comedy.

This was top-tier entertainment for a serious cause. AIDS may not be the deadly condition it once was, with the plan being to eradicate it in Scotland by 2035, but it still needs the funding to make this aim come to fruition. The Pleasance has raised £53k so far this year. After they count the money in the tubs, they hope to make that £60k.

21:40 (1hr) Jonathan Oldfield: Exquisite Corpse

Pleasance Courtyard Below. Ticket Price: £14.50 

Blurb:

The Oxford English Dictionary describes a corpse as (1) a body or (2) spoiling a performance by laughing. Jonathan Oldfield will be using both definitions in his highly anticipated debut show of exquisitely silly character comedy. Creator and star of BBC Radio 4's award-winning Time of the Week. BBC New Comedy Awards finalist. Director of Lorna Rose Treen and Joe Kent-Walters. You may also have seen him in Star Wars: Andor or seen those sketches online that someone sent you. 'Brilliant' (Observer). 'Always funny' (Chortle.co.uk). 'Left me snorting with laughter' (BroadwayWorld.com).

More Americans were in front of me for Jonathan's show. Inside, they didn't want to move to the end of the row, preferring to claim the aisle seats. This wasn't for accessibility needs. They just felt they deserved to choose their seats. C words (in the West of Scotland sense).

Jonathan greeted us as we entered, his arm in a sling. He informed us that this was the eighth time he had broken it, seven times between eight and thirteen. He had been at a wedding before the Fringe and fell on the dance floor. This causes him technical difficulties. The front rows have been asked to draw heads, bodies and legs for use in the show, and he can't line up the boards using his one good arm. He asks for a couple of volunteers from the front row to assist. He also needs help opening a packet of Haribo thathe'll use later in the show and a tube of crisps. The girl helping opens the packet and is allowed to take one of the sweets before opening the tube. She craps herself when a massive, spring-loaded snake bursts forth, whereupon Jonathan admits to being a bit of a prankster.

The show is a character comedy, with Jonathan performing as himself, as himself as a character, and as comedy characters, some of which he makes up from the pictures the audience has drawn.

It's a manic hour. He performs with the energy of a young Phil Nichol, and despite the chaos on display, the show is more scripted than it appears, with sound and music cues used to comic effect throughout. 

A good way to end my day. 

The walk back to the tram is lonely. Being a Tuesday night, the streets are not busy. The homeless are more evident, pitching up in doorways. I accidentally freak out an older man by matching his journey along the cobbled street behind the castle all the way along to the bus stop before the West End Tram stop. He suddenly halts at that bus stop and turns around, but I continue to the tram and don't look back. I'm sure he'll be talking about his lucky escape today.

I spotted a few celebs (?) today: Robert Peston was in the Pleasance bar area, as was Nish Kumar, pausing to take selfies with a group of fans. Outside the Pleasance, Eric Rushton made his way inside while I was queuing for Jonathan's show, and afterwards, Rosie was outside talking to someone.

On the way home, I considered alternative ways to salvage my book. Six years is too long to waste an original setting. I need to find the right voice that isn't YA. Maybe one more like my own. That story's not over. 

Edinburgh Fringe, Thursday 14th August 2025: Elf Lyons, Kieran Hodgson, Adam Riches and John Kearns as Ball & Boe.

These were the shows I booked as soon as the programme was launched. I'll explain why below.

Our drive to Edinburgh was slightly strained as we'd left later than I'd hoped. The sat nav had us arriving at 7pm instead of closer to 6.30, so I was fretting over finding a street parking space. My wife kept nagging me about my speed and the likelihood of getting caught by the omnipresent traffic cops. Everything went fine, despite the traffic rerouting, until the sat nav was unaware that the Cowgate was closed to traffic. Cue an unexpected 180 at the roundabout, and a near collision as my eyes studied the screen map, failing to notice until the last second that the Audi in front had stopped at the pedestrian crossing. Fortunately, the only crunch was of my brakes and tyres. 

I navigated to a street parking spot on the south side near Just the Tonic. We had plenty of time before our first show, so we had drinks in the cafe beside the Pleasance Dome, remembering to use the facilities before joining the queue. Breath!    

Elf Lyons: "Raven" (2 x £15) 20.00 at the King Dome Pleasance Dome

I originally had tickets for this show at The Stand, Glasgow, when it toured, but I caught Covid and had to ask for a refund (for Jordan Brookes, too, it turned out). Billed as a Horror show, I expected creepy clown vibes, with Elf patrolling the audience, providing jump scares and invading personal space. 

It's not that at all. It's a scream, but the kind of scream from a hysterical person who's just experienced a horrific trauma. And I don't mean seeing a ghost.  

Elf talks us through her childhood, using her ickle voice, reminding us she's nine when she thinks we're perving at her libidinous movements. She was educated at home; her mother showed her horror films; she devoured Stephen King books. When she stayed with an uncle, they always watched The Thirty-Nine Steps, until one day he put on Kevin Bacon's The Hollow Man, about a scientist who turned himself invisible, went mad, and attacked women. Then her nightmares about monsters really began.

At ten, she was sent to boarding school. During the holidays, if she wasn't going home to her parents, she'd be alone in her dorm. The lights along the long corridor to the bathroom worked on sensors, but didn't always register her presence. The long walk terrified her. Especially the night when she discovered a male stranger standing at the other end with no one around to save her.

She acts out the show in five scenes. For the final one, she lays herself bare, physically and emotionally, destroying fruit to the pounding beat of The Prodigy's Firestarter, spotlights blasting, screaming her revelation at us. The front row needs a splash guard tarpaulin as she sprays them with tomatoes, chewed banana, and smashes up a watermelon, both with a mallet and her fists. Powerful stuff.

She sings her epilogue, the words too painful to speak. Raw, emotional and brave. Whether it's theatre or comedy is irrelevant. It's art, born out of trauma, and quite an experience. Wow!  

(Star spotting one: Stuart Goldsmith, of the Comedian's Comedian podcast, was sitting in the front row of this show.)

Kieran Hodgson: Voice of America (2 x £18) 21.30 Beyond at Pleasance Courtyard

Elf's show committed a cardinal Fringe sin: it overran, so we had less than fifteen minutes, instead of thirty, to get from the Pleasance Dome to the Pleasance Courtyard to attend Kieran Hogson's new show. The audience had already gone in by the time we arrived, but we managed to find aisle seats in the side seating area. 

This show is about his big break in Hollywood, starring as 'Sandwich Man' in the DC superhero movie, The Flash. His big scene (and only scene) is at the opening of the film. After one day, his agent, Sabrina, calls to say the producers are not happy with his performance.  They don't believe in his authenticity as an American. And so starts much soul searching about what it means to be an American, delving into Kieran's childhood, his schooldays, and later developing his talents as an actor, who's especially good at impressions and accents. What is an American voice? 

The show's storytelling has a gentle humour, and it's well-written and performed. The theme: America has always been about power, despite the historical rhetoric. The subtext is painted large at the end as one character takes over the show, dominating proceedings. You can probably guess who. 

We shuffle out to the strains of American Idiot by Green Day. 

The only things that niggled me were the noise chatter from the courtyard bleeding through the wall behind us - it occasionally distracted me from the narrative - and the seating angle became uncomfortable, making it difficult to sit straight to view the performance.   

(Star spotting two: I spot Hal Cruttenden in the Courtyard chatting with some fans after his show)

Adam Riches and John Kearns are Ball & Boe (2 x £21) 23.00 Grand at Pleasance Courtyard

It takes longer than expected to exit Kieran's show, so again, we have less time than planned to race around the corner to the Pleasance Grand for this performance.  We end up at the back of the queue, the staff diverting attendees behind us to the second entrance. I'm stressed out of my box, thinking we're going to end up stuck at the back or worse, the backside. Arse!

After having had our QR codes scanned, we're given a token to hand back upon entry. We make our way after a short wait and hear the strains of Michael Buble's Christmas (Baby Please Come Home), followed by Winter Wonderland. This show was initially staged at the Soho Theatre last Christmas, so I guessed they hadn't updated the setting. 

There are empty seats near the front at the side, so I claim them, then spot two aisle seats close by in the middle. I curse myself for taking the first ones available, then sigh with relief as I discover they were already being kept for someone. The large lady beside me shifts over one seat. I try not to take it personally.

The likes of David O'Doherty and Nish Kumar (sporting a massive backpack, not at all looking like a suicide bomber) pass us, heading up to the back. There might have been other, less well-known celebs I didn't recognise (Celya AB?), because this show has a buzz about it. Three Nights Only - this is a Fringe Event!

It would be fitting to describe it as This is the Greatest Show, as not only is that the opening number, John Kearns (as Alfie Boe) appearing from the wings and Adam Riches (as Michael Ball) starting at the top of the stairs at the back of the room, both belting out the Hugh Jackman classic, it's also repeated a number of times to increasing comic effect.

I had tears of laughter running down my face during the show. It is so funny! The performances are exquisite, suitably cheesy for Ball and morosely straight for Boe. The twinkle in their eyes during the repartee almost brings them to corpse, but they both remain committed to their parts, playing it straight within character, making it all the more funny. 

It's not just them singing. There is a plot of sorts - this is the warm-up to a planned tour, but Michael's agent has agreed to a sponsorship deal that conflicts with Boe's intended tour theme. Will their double act survive in light of these revelations, especially as the new script cuts the new, original song that Boe has written (much humour is derived from the fact that they only sing covers)? 

I can't recommend this highly enough. If you managed to get a ticket to this show (it's long sold out), you are in for the night of your life. It truly is the Greatest Show!   

Don't phone the police:
I photographed this poster in the Pleasance Dome's Gents' toilet.

Edinburgh Fringe: Trip Two - Adele Cliff, Paul Merton & Suki Webster's Impro Show, Riki Lindhome, Paul Foot. Saturday 17th August, 2024

No problem with the weather this time, as the day is dry but overcast. The journey is also without incident, and we (myself and Bob) arrive at the Ingliston Park and Ride in good time, finding a space at the far end of the site. Inside the tram kiosk building, there's a long queue, but it's not for people buying tickets. They are all waiting to use the toilet, which, as men of a certain age who've travelled a great distance, disappoints us. We buy our return tickets and catch the next tram, vowing to find somewhere appropriate to go at our destination.

Disembarking at St Andrew's Square again, I last as far as the first McDonald's. I probably shouldn't have drunk an entire 500ml bottle of Coke Zero on the journey in. Afterwards, we trudge through the mass of tourists and festival goers to our first venue for the day, Cabaret Voltaire.

We're early. A pushy flyer person pesters us, demanding to know why we won't attend the show he's promoting. We reply we're already going to a show at that time.

"It's on tomorrow," he immediately spits back.

"We're not here tomorrow."

"It's on every day." His forehead furrows, the young lad emitting a deep sense of frustration like he's going to explode. It's lucky we're a gun-free society because otherwise, I would have shot him, putting him out of my misery. We killed the rest of the time in the safety of Bannerman's bar, where I needed to pee again. I put it down to stress, but it was probably the caffeine in the Irn Bru.

 

Adele Cliff Has Some New Ideas You Might Enjoy

Prior to this gig, I wasn't too familiar with Adele Cliff, knowing only that she'd received some acclaim in the past. I picked the show more because it was cheap, its timing fitted in with the rest of the day's schedule, and I couldn't buy advance tickets for Mark Simmons, his show being part of the pay-what-you-want PBH Free Fringe. I didn't want to risk failing to get in if we ended up too far down the queue. 

This was Adele's tenth year at the fringe, and the show was billed as a work in progress. I sat in the second row on the left next to the cold, bare brickwork wall. Bright sunlight appeared to shine across half the audience but when I looked up, I noticed the room was windowless. The light emanated from a strip of LED bulbs. Fortunately, these were dimmed before the show began.

Framed within a pinkly illuminated archway of bulky plastic containers, Adele welcomed us, the paying punters, with pre-purchased tickets. She reassured us she was audience-friendly and wouldn't pick on anyone in the front row. We then waited for the ticketless punters to fill the room, which seemed to take ages.

Exuding confidence, she reminded us at the start that this was a WIP and that she might refer to her notes from time to time. And then she was off. Talking really fast, she raced through a huge amount of material, informing us of her geek credentials as a film buff, how she preferred to be called cat woman, not cat lady, and other related stories about her social life and family. I was surprised initially to discover she was single, but the more she talked, the more I could understand why. Looks don't change what's going on inside. I suspect the confidence she displays in her job might be missing IRL. Although she claimed to be working on a dead mum show, there was little evidence of this, except when she mentioned how her mum had been eaten by a shark (comedians lie, she reminds us). The subtle mention of the shark moving into her mum's brain was a nice line.   

I would have enjoyed the show more had Adele not referred to Brad Pitt in Fight Club as a ghost. As a punchline, it's inaccurate. If she'd used Bruce Willis, then that would have made (Sixth) Sense. It's funny how one wrong line can spoil an otherwise fine hour.  

At the end, she reminded us she'd kept the ticket price as low as possible and that she would stand at the exit with her bucket and card reader for those who wanted to make a donation. This was fine except for the bottleneck it created, eating into our transit time to the next show.

Bizarrely, the tall, lonely bloke I'd seen at the Slapstick Festival in Bristol was also in the audience. We made eye contact and shared a moment of recognition but never spoke. He rushed away afterwards, probably to catch another show, so I never got to confirm if it was him.

Paul Merton & Suki Webster's Impro Show

Bob and I both needed to pee prior to this show, the Irn Bru I'd drunk at Bannerman's painfully urging my bladder to empty again. This caused further delay, so by the time we arrived at the Pleasance Grand, the queue was non-existent, the audience already packing the huge room. We ended up at the very side on the left.

The stage area had been laid out with four chairs, two on either side, with keyboards and a silver bucket on the side closest to us. I recognised Mike McShane's American accent as he introduced our hosts, Paul Merton and Suki Webster. They, in turn, introduced Mike, Kirsty Newton (who would provide musical accompaniment), and today's special guest player, Fred MacAulay.

The improv games always involve audience suggestions, but in such a large room, it was often difficult to make out what was being shouted. The seasoned players did a fine job of making it funny. During the game Puppets, Suki and Fred were controlled by one member of the audience, who had to manipulate their limbs, body position and movement while the pair played out a shop encounter with Suki attempting to return a microwave, a very small microwave it turned out, big enough only to hold one chip - a microchip. Big laugh!

Another game involved each player mouthing the words spoken by another in real-time. It quickly descended into chaos as Paul mimed in an exasperated fashion that Fred had forgotten to speak for him. Fred was too busy trying to mouth what Mike was saying. 

My favourite game was Change, in which the players had to switch the dialogue to the opposite of what they'd just said whenever the other said 'Change'. The interplay between Paul and Suki was incredible. Two masters of improv. The hour flew in.

A late entrance meant an early exit, and we rushed to join the queue for Riki. But only after my bladder tricked me into thinking I needed to pee again. Oh, how it mocked me as I stood at the urinal, feigning shyness, as I produced not even a trickle. That's why it's important to go when you need it. Otherwise, lingering bladder pain will just take the piss.

Riki Lindhome: Dead Inside

We waited at the sign for Pleasance Beneath, which was located in a busy throughway to another courtyard. Eventually, a member of staff appeared and asked us if we were waiting for the show, then escorted us to where we should have been standing, which was around the corner. No one was there, so we were still first in the queue, although we were later joined by a young woman. From here, we could see a screen displaying the shows and their sales status. Distressingly, Riki's show had a red bar beside it, stating CANCELLED. I checked my phone. An email had arrived an hour earlier confirming this to be true, due to "unforeseen circumstances". The staff member returned having discovered the news too. She repeated what we'd just read, indicating we would get a full refund and we would have the opportunity to rebook for another day.

I was gutted. Riki was the prompt for heading through to Edinburgh in the first place. I've long admired her work in Garfunkel and Oates and enjoyed her acting, so I was dead keen to see her in the flesh (as it were).  

Bob and I then wondered what we would do next—probably eat. It then sunk in how much time we had before our last show. Rain threatened and then actioned the threat, so we made our way to a local cafe, The Foodies Bistro, across from MacEwan Hall. The food was lovely. I was surprised we could find a table, but I suppose the turnover was swift as people headed to shows. I couldn't find a show nearby that I wanted to see that still had tickets available, so after we'd eaten, we went for a wander, the rain having scarpered like a timid coward. 

I spotted two people eating proper ice cream cones at the same time as Bob noticed the ice cream booth. The flavours were intriguing and suggested quality, so we queued to buy some. I plumped for a two-scoop cup of Rafiello and Rhubarb Crumble, while Bob had a single-scoop cup of Cadbury's flake. Mine was delicious! Of the twelve flavours they had, I could have eaten all of them, except perhaps the Lavender, which remained untroubled by the assistant's scoop, suggesting others were in agreement with me.

We had another drink while we waited at the Cowbarn, but we had to move when we realised we were in the queue area for another venue. 

Paul Foot: Dissolve

I'd never been a fan of Paul Foot's work before, finding him peculiar and unfunny. He was an acquired taste I'd yet to acquire. But his show Dissolve won many five-star accolades last year and promised to explain the secret to happiness, so it was worth a punt.

And boy, was it worth it. 

Paul introduced himself over the speaker system, leaving the stage empty except for a table and a microphone stand. He then appeared not on the stage but at the front of the auditorium, continuing his introduction while wandering around the audience, cheekily invading individuals' personal spaces to impress upon them about the two birds on the tree, a story his mum had once told him. Dressed not in his usual leather suit and tie, he wore a blue one-piece jumpsuit, as per the picture above, a visual example of how he'd changed. Even when he returned to the stage, he kept climbing back down to impress another point. I thought I'd be safe, sitting in the middle of the second row, but he stood on a seat in the front row and reached over between myself and Bob to harangue the person behind us, ensuring they'd understood what he was saying. His wide, dopey grin suggested he was enjoying himself. A visual cue as to how happy he was. All rehearsed, I suspected.

He told us about how his life had changed on a specific date at a specific time at a specific location and all the events that led up to that point. His story was convoluted, loquacious, and extremely funny, delivered with over-the-top gusto that provided a suitable complement to the more thoughtful, quieter moments. 

I won't spoil how he came to be happy or the cause of his life-long distress, but it was cleverly told. Anyone who has followed Mo Gawdat's work will relate to his experience, but they won't have heard it related in such a remarkable way.

This show dissolved my frustration about Riki's earlier cancellation, making the whole trip worthwhile. He won me over, and he'll be happy about that.

We went for one last pee before departing the Underbelly, preparing for the long journey home. I recalled again why I don't normally drink when I'm at gigs. The bladder pressure is too high. 

As the tram pulled into Ingleston, we could hear Ocean Colour Scene playing over at the showground. As we listened to the crowd singing along, I wondered if they'd change the lyric to "The Day We Caught the Tram". That would have been apt.

    

Ticket Price
Adele Cliff £5 each

PM&SWIS £20 each

Riki Lindhome £15 each

Paul Foot £16 each

Boo! (I hope she's alright)

Yay!