Now, with Mum up for the festival over the weekend, what better way to play it safe than take her to a couple of safe shows before the even safer banker of the Edinburgh Tattoo.

Friday saw us start our schedule with a nice and safe lunchtime "best of the fest" in which you get a 10 min taste of 4 top comedians from the festival ... only one of which I've heard of. First up was Justin Moorhouse (the guy from Phoenix Nights) who was very good and I'll give a 7/10. He was followed by a not quite as funny Irish fella (is it worth giving him a rating if I can't remember his name? 6/10). Then came a very short "comedian" who wasn't very funny at all (but not as bad as Vladimir McTavish, so a 4/10) and then a very good, but very rude New Zealand comic who used the "c" word 5 times during his 10 minutes, which sent me into regular sideways glances to see how Mum was reacting to her Edinburgh experience. Anyway, this guy was supposed to be New Zealand's top comic ... although having done a google image search, I can't find any trace of him. Anyway, he'd be a 7/10 but downgrading him to a 6.5 for saying the "c" word a lot ... in front of my mum ... at a lunchtime show ... and for being fairly intimidating.

So, with nothing else to see until the Tattoo and the rain beating down, we decided to take shelter in the form of a wild card option ... Early Long Island Iced Tea which is directed by Mel Smith (yes, as in Smith and Jones) and I therefore thought it might be mildly funny. Didn't know if it was a play, musical or whatever, but it was certainly full of people more my Mum's age. It was an hour of caberet singing, and hour of caberet singing by an old queen (with a cracking voice it has to be said) singing old songs in an overly dramatic way. To add insult to injury, there were a few attempts at comical interludes which fell flat on their faces (unless you were of a certain age) which I presume were the inventions of Mr Smith. I was ready to cut my own ears off by the end of the hour. Mum seemed to enjoy it however.

Then onto the Tattoo. What a spectacle, not even dampened by having to sit in the heavy rain with my hood up and a bin liner over my legs. All in the name of "festival" my friends, all in the name of "festival".