And so another Edinburgh Fringe faces the final curtain. But not without more nudity. Phil Nichol is one of the five nominees for the inaugural if.comeddies Award, announced on Saturday, and while there is no denying his storytelling skills, I do not think he would be a contender if his show did not climax with him waving his penis around.

The Canadian veteran's hour is essentially a lurid, manic account of a lost weekend in Amsterdam. The tale takes in sex, drugs, bunions, heavy metal, a rabid marine, a paraplegic, Nazi skinheads and a visit to a fetish club, the latter described, the night this critic was in, with remarkable relish given the fact that Nichol's grandmother was in the second row.

This human Tasmanian devil is a wonder to experience, but prizewise there are misgivings. Even though his monologue is called The Naked Racist and concludes with a pacifist justification for stripping, the full-frontal feels like shock tactics. Under scrutiny this set is strikingly similar in form and content to last year's show, except with added genitals.

Nichol is never less than captivating, though. And given the fact that he is also acting in True West and Talk Radio his stamina is unbelievable. As he jokes at the outset: "Next year I'm also gonna get a jazz band and write a book."

If there was an award for graft he'd romp home, but the if.comeddies prefers act development. Unfortunately, Nichol is merely as excellent as ever.
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