A Fire Ignites, TheSpace at Surgeons’ Hall.

It’s impossible for us, in the safety of our free societies in the West, to comprehend the sheer oppression of the Iranian people, specifically the women who dare to protest by burning their hijabs. They face imprisonment at best, execution more likely. Parisa was one such brave young woman who did not survive her protest. Tara Tedjarati writes and performs in her own show, A Fire Ignites, and it’s a vital story that needs to be told to as wide an audience as possible. The characters she portrays represent various aspects of Iranian society, from her best friend Maryam, hiding her sexuality because the truth would be fatal, to Yasaman, Parisa’s mother, who can’t forgive herself for not escaping the post-revolution regime. Fine writing allows us a vital insight into these tragic, yet defiant, lives. The presentation, by necessity, lacks a little fluidity as Ms Tedjarati changes from character to character, but the show leaves you with a greater understanding of the frustrations and determination of the protesters. And the plaintive message and melody of A Fire Ignites, This is Me will haunt you all day.

Malion, TheSpace at Surgeons’ Hall.

I confess I’m not that au fait with the story of Pygmalion; he was a mythical sculptor who fell in love with a statue he had created – if you want to find out more, Ovid is your friend. In Tired Horses’ retelling of this myth, Piggy invites his scurrilous mates round to his studio to show off his new sculpture, his own vision of immaculate, pure beauty, of which he is enormously proud. The lads, however, are not so interested in depictions of classical beauty unless they can see her naked; when Piggy refuses, they tease him for not sharing their sexist and disrespectful view of women. They goad him into joining in with their appalling sexist behaviour. The statue, however, has other ideas… This is a powerful portrayal of misogyny and toxic masculinity and how, if unchecked, it grows and corrupts those around it. There are several genuinely horrible moments – but they work so well together that you’re completely hooked as to what happens next. Brilliantly written, full of inventiveness, very well acted, and a horrifying dissection of what makes some men behave the way they do.

The Last Laugh, Assembly George Square Studios.

They used to say everyone knew where they were when JFK was shot. A generation later, everyone remembered where they were when Tommy Cooper died. I was at home, watching Live from Her Majesty’s on TV, looking forward to seeing the great man do his stuff and make me roar with laughter as he always had, ever since I was a little kid. A piece of all of us died that day. Paul Hendy’s The Last Laugh takes Cooper, together with those other long lost comic heroes, Eric Morecambe and Bob Monkhouse, and places them in an imaginary shared dressing room, getting ready to go on stage. They examine what motivates themselves as comedians, what it is that makes them laugh, what they get out of it, and who were their own comic heroes. Names like Robb Wilton, Arthur Askey and Max Miller are deeply rooted in the past now, but you never forget those who made you laugh in your formative years. Sheffield Panto’s very own Damian Williams is a perfect Tommy Cooper, dressed in vest, pants and fez, cutting a scruffy yet lovable figure. Northampton Panto’s very own Bob Golding is Eric Morecambe, enacting an excellent recreation of Morecambe’s physical humour and his rattle-gun laugh. Simon Cartwright brings back to the Fringe his extraordinarily accurate impression of Bob Monkhouse, the carefully mannered comic genius whose strength – and interest – in comedy rested more with the writing of jokes than in their performance. It’s a little over an hour of pure nostalgia, written from the heart and with some wry dramatic irony as we know how and when these heroes are going to leave us; but they don’t. Perhaps Monkhouse’s jealousy of Cooper’s and Morecambe’s natural ability to make us laugh is repeated a little too often; and the lighting/electricity crackling effect, which tells us that this is an imaginary event, is also overplayed. But it’s both a fascinating exploration of what makes comedy work, and a delightful stroll down comedy’s Memory Lane, tinged with just a bit of sadness. Great work by everyone!

A Jaffa Cake Musical, Pleasance Courtyard.

Whilst everyone has their own opinion of this most pressing question – is a Jaffa Cake a cake or a biscuit? – you might not know that there was indeed a court case to determine the issue back in the 1990s when Customs and Excise wanted it proved that a Jaffa Cake is a biscuit so that it could attract Value Added Tax. And Gigglemug Theatre’s immensely entertaining A Jaffa Cake Musical takes us back to that legal wrangle and the barristers hired to argue the toss. Nicely delving into their legal training and family support for (or hilarious opposition to) their careers, we follow the tribunal’s daily progress until – finally – a decision is made! Written by Sam Cochrane, who plays defence barrister Kevin, and performed with great gusto and terrific musicality by a cast of five who belt out the witty songs to the accompaniment of Alex Prescot’s eloquent keyboard, you’ll lose yourself in the silly but fun story and catchy tunes. I did admire how the costumes inevitably included somewhere that delicious shade of orange that we all associate with the noble Jaffa Cake. You’ll be dying to eat one at the end!

Sooz Kempner: Class Of 2000, Underbelly Bristo Square.

Sooz Kempner’s new show, the Class of 2000, takes us back to that very year when she took her GCSEs, when all it took to be chic was to drench yourself in Impulse. In this show, she’s trying to work out what Class actually is, and where she fits into its Big Picture. But she’s into dressage, so she must be posh, right? Sooz spends a little over an hour searching for Class in all the wrong places, and, as you would expect, there’s many a hilarious comic observation to laugh at and enjoy. She also takes the opportunity to deliver some of her outstanding singing impressions. Somehow, somewhere during the show, the comic narrative gets a little lost and some of her comic ideas don’t quite gel. A meetup with one of her TV heroines at the end also doesn’t quite flow organically. But it’s worth the ticket price to discover the value of horse jizz, let alone the rest of the show!

To Watch a Man Eat, Greenside at George Street.

Behind every successful man there’s a good woman, they used to say in the rather patronising good old days. Meet Andrew: swiftly ascending the promotion ladder at his City financial services office – you know, the one founded by Daddy. And here’s his charming wife Melissa, always at hand to give him the boost and, erm, relief he needs. But which of them is the more ambitious? And what happens if somehow the greasy pole of success gets more slippery than either of them expected? Their fractious relationship is set alongside the life of happy-go-lucky firefighter Micky. Totally unstressed, despite the pitfalls of his work; luxuriating with a morning Tesco trifle for breakfast, making the best of his three-day weekends. He’s probably not going to get any higher up the promotion chain; but who’s got it right? Sadie Pearson’s witty and more than slightly terrifying new play explores some of the worst aspects of our personalities, and doesn’t shy away from some unappealing conclusions. The structure of the play occasionally feels a little over-complicated, and it takes a while for our understanding of the characters to fall into place, but it’s entertainingly acted by the cast of three – Lily Walker, George Usher and George Lorimer, whose slobbering over his spare rib dinner will be a memory hard to erase for a few days!

Colin Hoult: Colin, Pleasance Courtyard.

The devilishly funny Colin Hoult has cast off the mantle of his wonderful creation Anna Mann and is now concentrating – arrogantly, he says – on himself with his show Colin. It’s very much a nostalgia-fest of his family life in Nottingham, with his weird uncles, aunts and brothers and his burping, farting father. Who plays with a Ouija board with a seven-year-old anyway? Encompassing his diagnosis of ADHD (other neurodiversities are available), it’s a very funny hour with a comedian who constantly riffs off the audience – so if you sit anywhere near the front, you will become involved! A very safe pair of comedic hands, and guaranteed laughter throughout.

The Shadow Boxer, TheSpace at Niddry Street.

Jack is a bricklayer by day and a boxer by night. After an unexpected surprise win in his home town of Portsmouth, Jack sets his sights on representing Great Britain at the 1968 Olympics. With his beautiful fiancée Susan, they appear to live the perfect life – what could possibly go wrong? That’s one interpretation of this multi-levelled play; however, maybe none of this happened. Maybe it was all the fantasy of a troubled young man’s brain? It’s up to us the audience to decide for ourselves where the boundary between reality and delusion lies. Lucas English gives an excellent performance as Jack – or is it Isaac? – conveying the character’s desire to live an unrealistically model successful life mixed with his struggle to control rage. Or is his behaviour simply controlled by therapy? The clues are there: a late night brain teaser of a play!