Paul Foot returns to the Edinburgh Fringe next week, performing his show Dissolve at 7.20pm at Underbelly Cowgate  from August 2. Here he shares what she can't get enough of at the festival, his most embarrassing Edinburgh experience; and the worst thing about the Fringe. Apart from the cost of accommodation, obviously.

Edinburgh binge

I love spending a whole month at the largest, most spectacular arts festival in the world, but I find people can get a little wrapped up in it, so what I really love to do during the Fringe is experience everything that the rest of the world has to offer. 

As it happens, I am usually quite busy doing my show every day, but on my one day off, I like to go on a journey. One year, I took a train trip to Mallaig in the Highlands; another time I flew to Budapest, performed in the Sziget Festival, then flew back again. I was only in Hungary for around six hours. It was intense and exciting. 

More recently, I have started a tradition, on my day off, of doing a secret show (not publicly advertised) in London, based on Scottish themes. I make up the show on the flight down, whilst sipping a gin and tonic, and thinking about Judy Murray, haggis and other Scottish items. 

The next morning I rise at the break of dawn and return to Edinburgh, tired yet invigorated, and blast straight back into it. I couldn’t fault it!

Edinburgh cringe

Some years ago, I did a show in Edinburgh in a swimming pool. Yes, you read that correctly! We all know that every broom cupboard becomes a venue during the Fringe, and this year a hotel pool decided to cash in.

 It was quite a fun show – I'd already done it a couple of times: the host would get in the pool and welcome the audience (who sat at the side) and then each of the performers would dive in and do their spot. I would swim lengths, whilst delivering my comedy. At the end, the audience would jump in with the performers for a game of water polo. 

The final time I did the show, unfortunately, the host was having something of a nervous breakdown. Prior to introducing me, she spoke of how fed up she was of doing the show, and of some of the obvious disadvantages of performing in a pool. She sort of went ‘I thought it would be a brilliant idea to have a show in a swimming pool, but it doesn’t really work. I’ve been doing this for three weeks now, and I can’t take any more of it. Now, will you welcome Paul Foot.’

I then went 'on stage' and did my act, trying to smooth things over, while the host wept openly in the paddling pool. It was rather embarrassing. I wished that the floor would open and swallow me up, if indeed that is the correct metaphor for someone who is in a pool.

The salt in the wound on this occasion was that this was the 18^th show I’d performed that day, as I was attempting to break the world record for the most comedy shows performed in 24 hours. 

I did break the record, as I managed 25 shows in total, but the Guinness World Record people refused to sanction it due to health and safety reasons. Apparently I could have knocked into someone rushing between shows, so my record attempt was considered too dangerous for the manufacturers of Guinness to have anything to do with. This despite the fact that they have happily sanctioned a man putting 13 live rattlesnakes in his mouth. 

Still, he probably did a risk assessment instead of naively walking briskly through Edinburgh without the relevant paperwork.

Edinburgh whinge

The ultimate Edinburgh whinge for any comedian is talking about how exhausted they are from doing lots of extra late-night shows. You can turn up in a dressing room and complain about how this is your fifth spot of the night so far, and how tiring it is wowing the crowds. 

If someone points out that this misery is entirely self-imposed, you can counter that you'd planned to cut down on extra shows, but you're in such demand that you just couldn't say no. You can then seamlessly run this into a whinge about how, after Edinburgh, there's no let-up, as you'll be busy till Christmas, with lots of tedious filming commitments, international touring, and other opportunities that everyone else in the dressing room would give their right arm for. 

After your main solo show goes so well, that an extra show has to be added, why not head to one of the many artists' bars and moan to anyone who'll pretend to listen about how demanding it is doing two shows in a day.