It's tempting to think that when it gets to the last weekend of the Edinburgh Fringe acts might be losing a bit of energy. But if that's the case with Paul Currie it is terrifying to think what he might have been like in the first week. Within five minutes of this full-on high-octane hour of clowning his jump suit was wetter than an Amazon rainforest.

Currie throws his very being into a series of skits that are heavy on audience participation. It's a show that you have to buy into, but his turbo-charged lunatic presence is so infectious it is pretty easy to get into it. He even had this jaded critic punching the air during one bit that was as much self-help therapy class as stand-up comedy.

There are props with almost everything. Pandas for hands, confetti cannons, bread fights. I don't quite know why but at times he made me think of Kenny Everett (ask your dad).

But behind the absurdity that also had a few echoes of Tony Law, there are some serious themes poking their head above the parapet. At one point Currie brings out a dog puppet with the voice of Iggy Pop to talk about depression. 'Black dog' of course, is another way of decribing depression. Elsewhere he tells us that gender is a construct and in his mid-forties he has come out as pansexual. 

Like all clown shows, of course, Currie wants to say something serious. There is a particularly touching story recalling an incident during his Belfast childhood when his father stood up to some bullies. He returns to the story later on, giving it real emotional whack. 

This is a show that has everything. Sensitive bits, stupid bits, bits when everyone has to get stuck in that feel like a club night in Magaluf. Oh, and also puns based on changing song lyrics for similar sounding words. It's an old comic trope but as with the rest of this show in Currie's madcap hands it is pointless to resist.  

Paul Currie: The Chorus of Ghosts Living in My Skull Keep Telling Me to Take a Shit in the Fruit Salad, Just The Tonic, until August 28. Tickets here.

four stars