This year's inexplicable Edinburgh Fringe post

I'm still struggling to remember just how many shows I saw at Edinburgh. Funnily enough, among the best shows were the free ones, and the worst were the paid-for ones. Sitting somewhere in the middle, though, were two historical curiosities wheeled out for a turn or comic legends making triumphant appearances, depending on your point of views. Yes, I travelled 350 miles north to watch Jim Bowen do Bullseye, and Roy Walker do Catchphrase. (Oh, and 16 other shows too.)

They're both comics of the old school, closely linked by apprenticeships in 1960s working-men's clubs and 1970s ITV show The Comedians, both with fond memories of the late Bernard Manning. 

Both men touched on the old "political correctness" line in their routines. I was reminded of Transpontine's recent thought-provoking post about a campaign for a Spike Milligan statue somewhere in the borough of Lewisham - especially as Bowen let a "nig-nog" slip out of his mouth on BBC local radio in 2002 and found himself out of a job.

Bowen is 71 later this month and looks a tiny bit unsteady from time to time. His show features conversation with fellow Fringe performers, a few gags from him and a cut-down version of Bullseye (have a guess at what you could have won...) Yes, he spoke fondly of Bernard Manning, and he touched on a time when "we just told jokes" - basically, you could get away with a lot more then. Chatting with some other performers, at one point Bowen utters dismissively, "oh, they're sad aren't they, the French?" - a glimpse of his past.

But I think it'd be harsh to allow the sins of times gone to overshadow Bowen's performances now.  A line of fans in wheelchairs at the front was a reminder that audiences are more diverse these days. He clearly still gets a kick out of performing, and talked about Bullseye in a self-deprecating manner. There are many, many worse ways to spend your lunchtime than sharing a bit of Bully.

Roy Walker's different - quieter, and a terrific storyteller. He talked about his early life in Belfast - but spared the shocking details he mentions in this interview, where he tells how he was forced out of Northern Ireland by sectarian thugs. But this most old-fashioned of entertainers burst with pride talking about his family, rattles off dozens of quips, and then really sprang to life when... you guessed it, he got the audience to play Catchphrase.

It sounds corny, a bit like a crap student do (his career has been boosted by the patronage of Chris Moyles) - but it's bloody good fun. And the beam on Walker's face at the end could light up the city for the whole of the festival.  There's much, much more to him than the quiz he did for 12 years - but you can tell how much it means to him. It's an engaging hour and worth a look.

Of course, there were thousands of other things on - my own highlight was 2 Drummers Drumming, the brainchild of Dodgy drummer Mathew Priest and his couterpart from 60s band The Love Affair, Maurice Bacon, to show there's more to being at the back of a band than gags like "what do you call a beautiful woman on a drummer's arm? A tattoo."  They talk about drumming, play the drums, show clips of drumming, and introduce a guest drummer. They're engaging company and it's a brilliant show.

I was also proud to be in an audience of four for MJ Hibbert's My Exciting Life In Rock - one man's brief brush with the big time. I should point out that we share a mutual pal, and another audience member seemed to be a reviewer... but lounging on cushions in a little nightclub listening to songs and stories was a great way to spend an early evening.

The British Ambassador's Belly Dancer is an odd one - the story of Nadira Murray, wife of the former Our Man In Tashkent who exposed human rights abuses in Uzbekistan, before being given the boot by the Foreign Office. Sex and politics don't easily go together and she's a bit hammy at times, but the story she tells (nightclub hostess meets married ambassador) is a compelling and occasionally disturbing one.

The rest of it, for me, was comedy - my favourite show was late-night gag-fest Spank, which runs from 00.30-03.00 and features a string of comics doing brief bits from their shows. Nina Conti's monkey business goes down bloody well in the small hours in a tiny club, while Ian Stone was also terrific. Not all of Spank's performers hit such great heights - a couple were pretty poor - but you know there'll be another one along in a minute. An audience member also stripped off to promote her show - Americans and booze, eh? Old Rope is another compilation show where performers try out new stuff - compered by nicely crude west Londoner Tiffany Stevenson and featuring reviewers' favourite Andrew Maxwell. 

Big stars Brendon Burns and Reginald D Hunter both came up with the goods, as did Richard Herring, but the real delight was seeing some bloody good comics for nothing in the free shows. Two American Comedians Lose Their Shirt At The Edinburgh Free Fringe started at noon, but Ophira Eisenberg's smart jokes had me forgetting it was so early,  while Liam McEneaney is far too funny to be on at lunchtime in a room with creaky chairs. Remember his name. Meanwhile, Homework for Heroes is a cracking show, with Nat Luurtsema the star of it all.

Seeing those two shows made me annoyed with myself for forking out money to see the Oxford Imps, for example. It's not that they're awful at all, but it made me realise why the likes of Paul Merton do improvisation so bloody well - it's because they're all in their 40s or older and have lived life, while it's tough to do improv when you're 20 and know bugger all about life (and jump around like idiots between rounds). Same with Bronya and Siony, who are just a bit too thespy and cutesy for my tastes, but then they're at least fun, and when you see them flyering their guts out you realise just how hard they're working for those pounds. And I did get a Jaffa Cake from them...

That's the other thing I'll remember this year's festival for - the brilliant female comics I saw. The last act I saw before going home was fellow south-east Londoner Josie Long - who's only 26 and has years and years ahead of her. Jealous, me? Like Richard Herring, she drew upon her childhood, but while Herring had venue staff give out a glossy programme, Long said hello to everyone as they came in and handed them her own DIY programme. Endearingly full of whimsy and wonder, she's someone you want to take home with you.

Instead, though, I had to hump my bags over to Waverley station for the sleeper home - and eight hours after Long's show finished, I was stumbling along a damp platform at Euston, mumbling hello to the train guard, but still smiling. Maybe that was my best Edinburgh moment, grinning my way down the Tube at 6,40am. My second year and I'm hooked. I already can't wait for next year...