There is so much comedy at the Fringe that I want to see that it is very rare to be going to something completely blind. Excitingly, then, this is one of two shows this year where that’s the case. Would I have picked Ikechukwu Ufomadu had I known what was to come? For myself, absolutely. For my friends? Probably not. This is - ugh, sorry - a comedian’s comedy show. You have to love the journey, not the destination; appreciate the craft of it, understand the form being played with. For Ufomadu, it’s all about the delivery, the cadence, the rhythm of saying things. The jokes are there, but it’s not laugh a minute, unless you’re some kind of nerd like me - to wit, our collective favourite part of the show was watching “pink shirt man” in the front row on the opposite side to us, who had such distaste for this show that he was literally not watching it, deliberately just staring into the middle distance. I understand. If this kind of thing doesn’t do it for you, my god are you going to resent this hour of your life being taken from you. But all I can tell you is, I was convulsing. A huge fan now.