My left side still hurts.

In his Walter Raleigh show on Wednesday night, Michael Legge talked about everyone having a “Fringe moment”, the defining incident of their three weeks up here. I might have had mine last night. But more on that story later.

Three Man Roast was a joy from start to finish. We could tell when the lovely audience laughed almost before Alex had opened his mouth (and not at his face) that it was going to be a good one. They were completely on our wavelength to the point that one man shouted out a grammar correction (brilliant) and if I’d genuinely been setting up a Pedants’ Revolt, he’d have put his name down there and then.

Our first review has given us three stars, so we are officially “good”. Good.

In the evening, I made a return to Tricity Vogue’s Ukulele Cabaret and fumbled my way through a couple of songs. Despite losing points from one judge in the Uke of Edinburgh Awards for my lack of technical prowess (expecting someone at a ukulele night to be able to play the ukulele well is surely harsh), I was very pleased how the songs went down, and especially how many people bought into the dolphins song. Delightful musical comedy geek Helen Arney was the deserving winner, albeit cheating by using “skill” and “talent”.

But day 9 was a day of highs and lows. Unfortunately this was in a literal sense, with a physical low coming all too quickly after a physical high.

I fell over.

I fall over every now and again. I’m uncoordinated (see “Ukulele (playing)”). As a result, I notice when it happens – the basic symptoms are loss of balance and the ground rushing towards me – and I instinctively react to protect my precious, precious brain.

Which is a good thing because this was quite a fall. It wasn’t a trip, although that’s how it started. There were large steps, some almost flying, a knocked over table and eight or nine feet difference in altitude between where I began and the floor where I ended up.

My main concern was to hope that no-one had noticed but this was in the busy Pleasance Dome and it turns out that when you fly past people on an uncomfortable downward trajectory, even the most nonchalant of evening drinkers will take an interest.

Performers who looked half my age kindly crowded round to check I was OK. I pulled myself to my feet as one of them sensibly encouraged me to stay on the ground for a bit. Another man picked up my glasses and returned them to me; I hadn’t even noticed they’d fallen off.

I brushed myself down, looked at the concerned faces all around me and said: “Well, this is the biggest audience I’ve played to so far.”

Always on. Always on.

One guy asked if I’d be handing flyers out. In retrospect, I should’ve done, and then entered myself for the Malcolm Hardee Cunning Stunt Award for best Edinburgh Fringe publicity stunt. I’d probably have needed a few broken bones to win though.

I thanked the gentle younglings for their help, went round checking that I didn’t need to replace anyone’s drink (no drinks knocked over – 10 points to me) and then sheepishly ran away to Brooke’s Bar to hide my shame, to rest my painful left side, and, obviously, to tell everyone who’d listen about my awesome clumsiness.

Oh, and to win a game of pool, which, yes, has to be my defining Fringe moment.

What I learnt today: The best slapstick comedy hurts.

Recommended shows: The Blue Lady Sings Back

Obligatory plug: I’m in Three Man Roast, 2.35pm weekdays and Saturday 20th at Finnegan’s Wake on Victoria Street – free entry. Also at the Amused Moose Comedy Awards Showcase at the Pleasance Dome, 4pm on August 17th (book online).

Day 8 was not one of the best.

For the first time, our gig was a bit flat and I wasn’t sure why. I moved a couple of jokes earlier in my set to try something out but it was hard to judge from the quiet crowd whether that was an improvement or not. And just to add further confusion, one line we’d talked about rewriting suddenly got a good laugh. We consoled ourselves that one slightly weaker gig out of five so far is an all right hit-rate.

I went to the gym to blow the cobwebs away a bit and ended up with blisters on my toes and lost a button from my cardigan.

It rained and rained and rained.

On the positive side, I went along to see my mate James W Smith in his first solo show, Living in Syntax. The audience there clearly enjoyed it and it deserves more of them, as befits any show that features Latin poetry and a game of Boggle. 6.10pm daily at the Royal Mile Tavern, and it’s free.

Last stop of the day was to see Michael Legge‘s Curse Sir Walter Raleigh, which was the best stand-up show I’ve seen here so far. Michael spends an hour with no microphone shouting funny things from his mournful teddy bear face on the subject of good and bad manners. It’s hilarious and also features a Doctor Who joke, which is always a bonus, but there’s is only one more show remaining.

And outside, it continued to rain.

Got back to my room with a stinking headache which I realised was my own fault for not rehydrating properly after the gym. Made an emergency trip through the lakes on South Bridge to Tesco and then popped a couple of Nurofen and went to bed.

Sleep. Blessed, endangered sleep.

What I learnt today: It is important to drink water when exercising, you idiot.

Recommended shows: Michael Legge: Curse Sir Walter Raleigh

Obligatory plug: I’m in Three Man Roast, 2.35pm weekdays and Saturday 20th at Finnegan’s Wake on Victoria Street – free entry. Also at the Amused Moose Comedy Awards Showcase at the Pleasance Dome, 4pm on August 17th (book online).

We had a lovely crowd at Tuesday’s gig, although the five people who arrived after my set missed the defining part of the show, which will now be known as “The One Where Will Broke the Microphone”.

I got a bit too into my big finale and apparently bashed the microphone on my knee. Fortunately, we had a spare so I pottered around on stage, showing the audience the secret magic behind the scenes of live comedy. (I switched the other microphone on and adjusted the volume.)

Still, having wrecked the mic I was most definitely ready to rumble. So I went and had a nice sit down and a cup of coffee with Alex of Three Man Roast fame and Paul from off of Nonsense Duet.

In the evening, I did a bit of writing and then had one of those naps that goes on just a bit too long. I woke up very disoriented, wondering where I was, who I was and whether I’d missed my own show.*

Popped over to the Guilded Balloon, which always reminds me of The Prisoner for some reason, to see another Comedy Countdown, where Michael J Dolan faced up to Stuart Goldsmith. It was another fun show and this time I got both answers (both, damn your eyes) to the conundrum. And yes, that is what counts as satisfying in my life. I’ve decided Comedy Countdown is to words and numbers what Karaoke Circus is to karaoke and circuses.

Ended up in Brooke’s again where I met more lovely fringefolk and bumped into one of the producers of Radio 4 Extra’s Newsjack, which is back for a fifth series soon. It’s an open submission topic comedy show: if you’ve ever fancied writing sketches for radio, it’s an excellent way to get started (follow NewsjackBBC on twitter for news and info).

And then, for the second night in a row, I found myself in a takeaway at 4am, for which Carol Vorderman is entirely to blame.

*”In my room”, “Will Howells” and “No” were the answers, for anyone playing at home.

What I learnt today: Kate Copstick is actually lovely.

Recommended shows: Comedy Countdown (again).

Obligatory plug: I’m in Three Man Roast, 2.35pm weekdays and Saturday 20th at Finnegan’s Wake on Victoria Street – free entry. Also at the Amused Moose Comedy Awards Showcase at the Pleasance Dome, 4pm on August 17th (book online).

The Edinburgh Fringe can be a bit of a bubble at the best of times. As you dash around performing shows, seeing shows and napping (not so much while dashing around), it’s easy to miss the news. I got the feeling a collective jolt went through the ex-pat Londoners up here yesterday evening as the enormity of what was happening back home fought its way through the fog of ticket stubs, alcohol and street performance.

On the one hand, I’m glad to be well away from the rioting. On the other, I feel – entirely irrationally – like a coward, as if I’d run away. My city under attack, I had an unexpectedly macho desire to be there to protect it. In practice, “defending” would probably have involved switching off the lights, peering through the curtains and pontificating on twitter, and there is plenty of pontificating on there without my adding to it. My best plan to get back at the criminal mobs is to put it about that they’re organising everything through Grindr.

Still, I worry about my friends and wish I was closer to them.

Immersing myself back in the silliness of the Fringe was a welcome distraction. Having enjoyed seeing Ben do ukulele cabaret yesterday, I’d snapped up a spare spot and so took my uke down to do a couple of songs (Media Gay and Jim Bergerac: A Love Song). They went well – not aided by a coughing fit just before going on – and I only muffed a couple of chords. It’s a lovely, supportive show and I’m looking forward to doing it again on Thursday (leaning towards doing My Favourite One Off of Thundercats and Why Aren’t There Dolphins on Only Connect?).

The highlight of the show for me, though, was the final singalong on stage with host Tricity Vogue and fellow Uke of Edinburgh contestants Pure Joy and Penny Dreadful and regular Karaoke Circus star Thom Tuck (who’s up here with his first solo show, Thom Tuck Goes Straight to DVD). We did Hit the Road, Jack, which consisted of four chords I could play. Win.

I bumped into Thom again later at Comedy Countdown, where he faced off against We Are Klang’s Steve Hall. That was an excellent show, mixing the obvious pleasure of a words and numbers game with which you could play along with, well, comedy – not least hilariously grumpy host Dan Atkinson, combative Carol Vorderman clone Paul Sinha and prize neologist and Richard-Stilgoe-alike James Sherwood in dictionary corner. Very tempted to go again tonight as it’s only a fiver.

What I learnt today: I am not the only comic up here to have actually been on Countdown. Alex Horne also has that claim to fame. Damn him.

Recommended shows: Conor O’Toole’s Manual of Style and Comedy Countdown.

Obligatory plug: I’m in Three Man Roast, 2.35pm weekdays and Saturday 20th at Finnegan’s Wake on Victoria Street – free entry. Also at the Amused Moose Comedy Awards Showcase at the Pleasance Dome, 4pm on August 17th (book online).