****

Richard Herring is a stalwart of the Fringe, an old hand. This year he delves into his rather unfortunate childhood scholastic circumstance; his headmaster at school was his dad. It's such a veritable goldmine of comedic opportunity that Herring can't understand why he's not gone here before.

It's an impassioned set with Herring pleading for sympathy. He admits that despite the headmaster dad thing, he had a pretty good childhood, and that he feels was wrong. He calls out for understanding; his upbringing was unjust - it's not easy not having a hard childhood to blame.

In the arguments and comparisons he lays down in his plea, and at many times throughout the show, Herring dances gleefully on the boundaries of taste and decency. He blurs the lines of acceptability - leaping out of the trenches and bouncing about recklessly in no-man's land, happily volunteering himself as cannon fodder for anyone with a decent moral compass.

This isn't just shock tactic comedy like some of the (ooh-look-at-me-I'm-being) 'offensive' Fringe comedians might employ; this is cleverer than that. He deliberately taunts the audience with his material, testing their judgement by crossing the line and then proving he hasn't. No-one knows how to take it - is it ok to say these things? The things he says should be completely abhorrent, but they aren't because they're not, but they feel like they should be... oh god it gets confusing. Uncertainty fills the room and Herring revels in it.

His material and delivery is finely tuned and well practised as he sweeps into fiery sequences at Mach 3 without slipping a word or fumbling a sentence. In one of the many highlights he chases along at high speed arguing with his former self.

It's an accomplished show from this Fringe comedy veteran. It's enormously impressive and very reassuring that after so many years of stand-up, at 41 Herring feels more revolutionary than ever. Comedians half his age should take note.