Edinburgh Fringe review by Sophie Cartman

Ed Gamble clearly wants everybody to like him, giving 100 per cent from the outset as he greets us with a big smile and a barking voice. His audience love him and his cheeky boy-next-door demeanour,  excitable and confident as he delivers a fluid set.

In return, he likes playing with the crowd, generating uproarious laughter with some of his banter. Although when he notices a stag-do conspicuously located in the front row he flags them up and warns them to be on their best behaviour.

Gamble’s intention first and foremost is entertainment – and as universal as possible, keeping his material clean save for one joke about a hand job, which he teases will divide his audience. It doesn’t.

Self-deprecating, he reels off a story in the press in which he was labelled ‘the diabetic comedian’. Gamble detaches himself and asks amusing questions as to what such a  person would be like. And ironically, given his amusement at that label,  the crux of his performance turns out to be based on his diabetes. 

It’s interesting to hear a comedic insight into the life of a diabetic young man, and as he expresses his constant anxieties he also touches on topics related to his masculinity ‘I’m not a sex man,’ he proclaims.

He jokes about his silly adventures with his girlfriend, such as going on a trip to Diggerland,  when visitors can drive JCBs, to ‘see how the working class live’, while his dad’s ridiculous emails to the vet,  as if written by the cat, are ripe for mockery too.

Gamble has jokes aplenty, usually simple with slightly predictable punchlines. He isn’t shy about cracking mischievous insults, either and has a sly dig at vape users, breaking down how lame they are compared to cigarettes.  

This is accompanied with a screen that plays a ‘boom!’ alarm whenever he makes a stinging joke, such as zinging one of the members of the stag group who interrupt his set. 

Bizarrely, one of the men, ends up handing Gamble an avocado, which he throws out of the door, barring it from returning. He slapped them down as the party stars shouting back, and deployed the cliché of hoping a reviewer was in the room so the avocado incident could be documented. ‘One star!’ a member of the group shouts. ‘Yeah, me. So go fuck yourself,’ Gamble hits back. The audience applauds with a heave of laughter.

He proves his star-status by closing with a variety-show style ending dressed up as his diabetic comedian alter-ego, Big Daddy Gamble. He dons a huge chain and a baseball cap and prompts the crowd to repeat his catchphrase: ‘Pancreas? What Pancreas!’ which is a fun callback to an earlier bit.

Gamble isn’t here to make you think too hard, just laugh along at his personal observations. He certainly has the larger-than-life bonhomie to achieve that.

Review date: 23 Aug 2018
Reviewed by: Sophie Cartman
Reviewed at: Pleasance Courtyard