Earlier this Fringe, Tania Edwards won the Amused Moose Comedy Award, which is awarded based on ten-minute extracts from Edinburgh shows. It’s clear why Edwards did so well in that format, which prizes jokes over longer arcs since her show is ram-packed with gags. She has the determination of an American club comic keep the rate high, so although the quality isn’t consistent, there will surely be a punchline you like coming along soon. 

Her stance is ultra-cynical and mean-spirited, delivered in the sort of clipped, well-spoken tones that fit condescension so well. Bearing the brunt of her tart opprobrium are her husband, Sanjev, and their two-year old child.

She’s withering about other middle-class folk like her, too: from couples being smugly happy, dinner party tedium and pilates. Some of these are well-mined topics - as is the idea she can set hubby spas a terrorist as he’s Indian – but the jokes are pointed and supported by her scornful attitude, which is similar to Jo Caulfield’s disdain.

Gags are affixed to stories, too, such as her well-planned attempts to give birth in a birthing pool ending in ignominy. It sounds as if the story could be quite serious, but she plays it very much for laughs at her own, humiliating  expense.

Some measured audience chat lightens the darkness, if only to want the youngsters what misery awaits them in their future. And her cynicism extends in a different way outside the room: she a dog on her poster and marketing, despite owning no such pet… but it’s good marketing.

Despite her jokes, Edwards has to keep insisting that she are actually as a happy family. And it even starts to feel true, even if her and her husband are bound by a sardonic wit, and flickers of warmth can be seen behind that steel.