The Moira Monologues

Moira Bell would make an excellent Fringe critic. She wouldn't need a five-star rating system, as “pish” and “utter pish” would almost certainly cover the spectrum her verdicts.

However, the hardest woman in Falkirk would make an exception for Alan Bissett's one-woman show, since it's all about her.

She might wonder why audiences would be interested in watching her getting stoned with her pal Babs or watching the football with her sons, but would surely agree that she has more charisma than most of the posh wankers on offer elsewhere in Edinburgh.

Bissett has been touring this sharply observed and fiercely funny portrait of a lady for a while now, and under the direction of Sacha Kyle has honed his act to perfection. As Moira recounts her efforts to seduce a handsome English teacher at the school where she works as a cleaner, he has the audience hanging on her every word.

This is no pantomime turn mocking a working-class woman, and Moira's no-nonsense dismissal of the suggestion that she might want to “better herself” is a political bombshell delivered with the nonchalant flick of a fag.

Life lessons on dog-handling, theatre-going and clarty bastards are offered, with a sharp jab of heartbreak in between, and the show's climax is a tremendous extended riff on Scottish identity to rival any stand-up the Fringe has to offer.