Barry Ferns’ all or nothing, stunt comedy has made him a quixotic, Fringe semi-legend. Yet if you’re not familiar with his story, his approach must seem borderline insane. Having got a taste young, bestowed a series of classic comedy tapes by a mysterious, Dickensian-like benefactor, he began performing stand-up underage in pubs, hitch-hiking around the country.
Establishing the reckless disregard for rules and precedent that would shape his career, the Dorset native truly found his calling in Edinburgh. He attracted strong reviews but only modest audiences initially, demonstrating a perverse streak by performing shows on Arthur’s Seat. Exhausting his talent, time and money on the emerging comedy of the internet, creating mischievous websites, he never once cracked making a living from them.
And despite a great wheeze when he legally changed his name to Lionel Richie, his efforts to hack the comedy industry saw him slide into debt. A Hail Mary opportunity for him to turn his life round saw him once again pull out all the stops, but didn’t quite pan out as he’d hoped. Still, this scrappy, upstart tale, which Fern relates with wry wisdom after the fact and justified pride in his madcap, self-destructive endeavours does have a happy ending, as he tells of how comedy is now belatedly reciprocating his love for it.
Barry Ferns: My Seven Years as Lionel Richie, Just the Tonic at The Caves, until 24 Aug (not 19), 6.40pm