There are no fancy adornments to JJ Whitehead’s stand-up. He’s a simple teller of stories, and with this being his 16th Fringe – though he barely looks old enough – he’s gotten rather good at it.

However, the Canadian veteran kicks off with a fairly pedestrian preamble about Naked Attraction, pretty much just talking through the show, which we already all know is a strange thing to be putting on TV; he’s not revealing a hitherto unrealised truth here.

But things kick up a gear or two when the anecdotes become first-hand, starting with a lovely small-scale comeuppance for his stubborn dad. Whitehead gets his share of humiliations, too, with his knowledge of celebrities who share his birthday, of all things, landing him in trouble. Problem is, he lost his ability to interact naturally with people – or even do his shopping without getting in the way – during lockdown. And he’s not the only one, by his account.

Online dating stories are ten-a-penny on the Fringe, but Whitehead has a couple worth sharing, from the ‘big fan of stand-up’ who didn’t appear to know what stand-up actually was – and certainly couldn’t spot a joke when it landed in her DMs – to the woman who brought some competitors for her affection along to their first encounter.

Using the gym in Hollywood, where Whitehead now lives after spending his formative stand-up years in the UK, is also fraught with danger, and he has a couple of anecdotes that grimly illustrate that it’s not all high-end luxury in LA.

Though he confesses to a social awkwardness off stage, on it he’s long mastered the ‘relaxed bloke shooting the breeze from his barstool’ vibe. White Noise is a straightforward hour of amusing stories, entertainingly told by a welcoming and upbeat comic. But such simple pleasures can be a hard sell against Fringe shows with grander ambition.