Ulysses of Scranton, Bedlam Theatre.

I suspect I’m not the only person who attempted to read James Joyce’s Ulysses, got as far as page 434 and thought – do you know what? Life is too short. I put it down and have never picked it up again. That was 48 years ago! Can Scranton Fringe Festival’s Ulysses of Scranton do everyone a huge favour and allow them to bypass the original? Not really – but I don’t suppose that was their intention anyway. The entertaining and thoroughly meta premise is that Scranton Theatre of Pennsylvania are putting on a one-hour abridgment of Joyce’s masterpiece but they’ve only got one hour till curtain up, so we’re watching their last-minute rehearsal. So not only are they encapsulating Ulysses, they’re also showing the nooks and crannies of the rehearsal process, the tensions and alliances between individual cast members, and those oh so important artistic differences. At times it reminded me of A Chorus Line (bear with me), with a disembodied voice barking instructions, and delving into cast members’ own backstories and relationships. It’s very inventive and often very funny, acted beautifully by the cast of five, with some thoroughly entertaining characterisations. I wondered if it would make me want to revisit the book all over again? Probably not! But this is a very entertaining and creative way to spend a morning.

The BBC’s First Homosexual, Assembly George Square.

Hard-fought-for freedoms can never be taken for granted. It’s extraordinary to think that, as recently as the 1950s, it was deemed impossible even to mention the word homosexuality on the BBC. The BBC’s First Homosexual – a very tongue-in-cheek and inspired title – follows the necessarily tentative steps toward making a serious, respectable radio documentary where society’s great and good could expound on their theories as to why what they would see as this warped perversion could start gaining traction amongst the people – the weak-willed ones, no doubt. Such a documentary was recorded in 1954 – but not broadcast until 1957, and even then in a heavily censored format. The story of the documentary is interspersed with one young man’s own story, a department manager at a Manchester branch of Burton’s tailors, who slowly starts to understand his own sexuality through a series of unintentional, and then very much intentional, encounters; the two stories play alongside each other until they dovetail together at the end. Dr Stephen M Hornby’s remarkable play is elegantly structured, wittily written and provides a fascinating insight into a sad, repressed time. The cast of three – Max Lohan, Andrew Pollard and Jolyon Benson – take on a raft of brilliant characterisations and bring out both the hilarity and tragedy of the subject. A slick, brisk, tight presentation of an important play that reminds us that we must never stop fighting to keep all those hard-won freedoms.

Olivia Raine Atwood: Oops, Gilded Balloon Teviot.

Olivia Raine Attwood’s Oops is the lively, hilarious and very relatable tale of how she became a full-time matchmaker, a career path which rose organically out of High School Olivia’s despair that she would never be the object of anyone’s desire. We learn of the vicious clique of girls who made her life a misery, of the boys she longed for; and, on a different track, we also discover the perils of running across the Williamsburg Bridge at an inappropriate moment. Olivia has a brilliant delivery of her smartly structured and worded material, and it’s a very engaging and indeed energetic hour that draws you into her world and – whether it’s all true or not – you believe every word. A fun, light-hearted hour packed with laughs.

Brick, C Arts C Venues C Aurora.

Noah Xavier performs their own play, Brick, which concerns James, detained after throwing a brick at a police officer during a protest. When you’re caught up in the excitement of a protest, with its goading and galvanising atmosphere all around you, it’s easy to lose one’s head and do something you regret later. These things happen. Being in a cell, with just a comatose room-mate for company, gives James a chance to, if not cool down, then at least reflect on the reason he went to the march, his wider family circumstances that have shaped his attitudes and beliefs, and the state of the nation – indeed, the world – as a whole, where institutional failures are constantly making life worse for everyone, except those who have a financial interest in continuing those institutional failures. As the play moves to its conclusion, you realise that the narrative has subtly changed, and we’re no longer talking about a one-off march, and that the water and inhaler he requests take on a greater significance – I won’t spoil the surprise. Noah acts with huge conviction and heart, and it’s a bold piece of work, created by a new voice with huge potential. Personally, I feel it would be even better if the opening scenes were cut shorter, with less attention to humour, progressing more rapidly to the essence and meat of the play – that would give it a much greater impact. Nevertheless, there is something that everyone will recognise in this play – especially if you’ve ever wanted to fight to change the world for the better.

Bilal Zafar: Rubicon, Underbelly Bristo Square.

Why is it called Rubicon? It isn’t anything to do with crossing a mythical river, that’s for sure. Bilal Zafar presents a varied and perhaps uneven hour, where he takes us through his career to date, acts out a scene from a film with a member of the audience, discusses how he teased Harrods by offering to buy some of their vastly expensive Christofle ornaments, and plays a round of Who Wants to be a Millionaire with another member of the audience – on this occasion, that was me. I think I won, but I’m not entirely sure. The show didn’t seem to flow entirely to plan, and he sometimes came across as a little ill at ease. Where his fluidity absolutely took off was with his account of his new job as a teaching assistant, which created a very warm-hearted and cute section of his material. There were plenty of laughs and a rewardingly clever closing sequence that wrapped up all the threads in the show that you didn’t even realise were threads. Maybe we were a rather unresponsive audience, but I did come away from the show feeling that something just hadn’t quite clicked.

Sami Abu Wardeh Hates You, Pleasance Courtyard.

Sami Abu Wardeh comes on stage, all guns blazing, full of attitude and funny noises; and he instantly makes his mark with loads of energy and plenty of attacking material. He concentrates at length on his unusual childhood: born in Kuwait to British parents, where he lived till he was 4, which was when Saddam Hussein decided to make Kuwait not such a safe place to be. The family moved to a council estate in London, where, as a 5-year-old, he schooled the local racist kid in how to be racist properly. He stopped being a poor kid in London when the family moved again, when he became a poor kid in Dubai. He has some great material about how to break down the police through the subtle art of clowning and offers a new perspective on just how unsafe it is to live in Battersea. Politically, sometimes he takes his material where angels fear to tread, and I hope he has a good coping mechanism if audiences take umbrage! But he is clearly a naturally very funny person, and this is an hour of good, solid comedy.

Sodom, The Quintessence of Debauchery, TheSpace @ Surgeons’Hall.

A rare opportunity to see the first play to be banned in Britain under the Theatres Act of 1737. Allegedly written by Sir John Wilmot, 2nd Earl of Rochester and privately performed at the Court of King Charles II in or around 1678, it’s a satire, dealing with the corruption and vice of the monarch, and, unsurprisingly, Charles II didn’t appreciate it. It was published in Antwerp as no one in England dared touch it; nevertheless, any published copies were seized, book dealers who sold it were prosecuted, and when it finally made its way to the Examiner of Plays in 1737, it was summarily dismissed. Today it appears as a period piece, and very much an oddity; the premise being that King Bolloxion has decreed that buggery is now not only legalised but encouraged. For this play to work, it must come across as crude, filthy and playful as possible, and Nikita Matthews’ production pretty much achieves that. There’s no expense spared on the costumes and make-up to recreate the Restoration era, plus there are live musicians and a plethora of dildos, and what more do you need at 11.30pm at night? It’s a shame that the play itself is not better; that’s no one’s fault but there are good reasons why this play never sees the light of day and it’s not just its subject matter. But the very spirited cast give their all, and there are several laugh out loud moments – perhaps the best being the unexpected musical interlude that cocks its hat to the musical Annie. The team deserve all the stars in the world for pluck!