Frank Skinner
Pleasance Cabaret Bar
***
Mark Watson
Pleasance Courtyard
****

Out with the old and in with the new? Not quite, but on last night's form one of our most naturally gifted storytellers has to get his act together, while one of our brightest new hopes revealed that he can deal with anything a crowd cares to throw at him.

Frank Skinner said at the outset of his smell-the-armpits, bar-room gig that he has not done stand-up for 10 years and at times during his intermittently hilarious and frequently gutter-crude set it showed.

The trademark dark jokes and easy banter were there, it was his usual in-the-zone momentum that was missing.

For a pub turn this was fine, as a warm-up for his imminent tour it lacked comedic consistency. At least the basics - the Heather Mills and sat-nav gags - were spot-on.

But Skinner was uncomfortably honest when 'fessing up about ageing. At 50 his tastes in pornography are becoming increasingly niche and the pills he pops make his urine luminous: "The toilet rug is like flying over Vegas."

He has clearly not lost it, maybe just mislaid it.

Mark Watson has done more stand-up in the last two days than Skinner has done in the last decade, having just completed a non-stop 24-hour gig.

The deceptively confident comic had every reason to be ragged, yet he was tack-sharp, mercilessly silencing a heckler intent on derailing him and justifying his status as everybody's Fringe darling.

The skinny 27-year-old's show is all about finding meaning in existence. Watson's preferred technique is providing his own internal sports-type commentary, whether watching someone miss a train or being propositioned by a stranger.

There were plenty of laughs, a few racy remarks, but the overall feeling was one of squeaky clean joy.

Looking for some comedy to take gran to? The choice of Watson is elementary.