Edinburgh Fringe comedy review

Both Duncan Brothers are running solo clowning shows this Fringe alongside their nightly collaboration Blood Sword, and their one-off play Jeremy Segway. Busy clowns. And there’s a clear resemblance between the shows, as the pleasingly-titled Andy Andy with Andy is another ritualistic comedy ceremony in which an already-devoted audience are encouraged to surrender themselves to improvised daftness.

Upon arrival, guests are given a nametag that identifies them as a variation on Andy (Bandy, Candy, Dandy etc, etc, etc) while Duncan leaves and then slowly re-enters in a mephistophelean red suit, using a complex array of mirrors to announce his coming before he steps foot inside the yurt. 

From the beginning, just like every single Duncan Brothers show I’ve ever been to, the crowd are absolutely lapping it up. For two relatively unknown clowns, these guys have the staunchest and most enthusiastic band of fans of almost any comedian I’ve encountered. Personally, my mileage can vary from show to show, but I do feel comfortable saying that they’re the best there is at what they do.

After a brief interlude drumming on a bald man’s head to the In The Air Tonight solo, Duncan announces that he’s ‘lost the show,’ providing us with an initial framework for the hour. The audience is a cult or a corporation or maybe just an audience, and Duncan is a hesitant and sombre ringleader. The job of the audience is to react to Duncan’s cryptic prompts, and whatever comes out of that alchemy will, in fact, be the show. 

In this excursion, segments include a mysterious box which traumatises anyone who looks inside, a sort of rudimentary bin-bag spectre, and the lapping of yoghurt off an extendable shoe horn. Good stuff, all, and if the material sometimes feels like it outstays its natural lifespan, the audience’s evolving relationship to the stimulus keeps it from going stale. 

It helps that Andy’s ideas are just a little more complex and numerous here than in older brother Rob’s show The Basement Child. 

Some of the bits even have progress and deliberate escalation. I greatly enjoyed a routine in which Duncan parodied the trend of reading old diary entries on stage. Duncan’s diary begins with screams and gargles, moves on to a live explanation of what’s happening around him, and the final entries describe a future in which he is CEO of Creamcorp, the world’s most powerful cream manufacturer, but was only able to attain this position by sacrificing his brother.

Even if they never hit the heights of their joint work, both brothers’ solo shows are enjoyable examples of modern clowning, and they’re clearly gathering more rabid converts with every year they spend at the Fringe. Why not go and see what the fuss is about?

Review date: 24 Aug 2024
Reviewed by: Tim Harding
Reviewed at: Hoots @ Potterow