By Ollie Wilson
Entering this room was like walking into an oven. Clearly, the murderous Dr Tench had been planning to incinerate us all. It was also very crowded. As one punter whispered to me: 'There really is no escape!'
That said, I enjoyed the show - a whirlwind tour of serial killers and other bad folk. Laurence Tuck is gloriously amateurish and shambolic in his approach, with ponderous delivery and some gags so bad you wouldn't put them in a cracker. But, despite the sweltering heat, he managed to keep his audience engaged and laughing at the best of his jokes (and make a potentially libellous comment about Michael Barrymore into the bargain).
Moreover, Human Top Trumps was good, as were the OJ Simpson routine, the undercooked chicken gag and the drill sector. And his terrible singing somehow added to his revision of Robert Palmer's Addicted To Love - Addicted to Death!
What's not to like? This kind of half-baked, madcap show is what Edinburgh Fringe should be all about.
And Dr Death has promised not to murder me if I give his show four stars. So. . .
Star Rating: ****
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