From Cornwall to Birmingham to Bristol, our scatty host moves and moves on, and yet eccentric incident follows her everywhere. Not that her comedy needs gifts: an increasingly familiar TV face, she’s teetering on the verge of the big time. But here in a cave in Edinburgh, it’s hard to imagine a more marginal figure, a tattooed West Country screwball rummaging her props bag for DIY comedy accoutrements, semaphoring punchlines with a windmilling physicality and oral SFX. There’s material that contains within it the germ of several fringe shows, like the routine about her closeted gay dad, or another about her teenage enthusiasm for alcohol. While mental health is not the emphasis here of a performer whoopenly engages with that subject elsewhere, there are plenty of jokes whose battiness only barely conceals something more troubling – like the one about breaking her own arm to escape a dead-end job.