Bridget Christie takes an altogether different tack on PC, emerging as her alter ego, A Ant, a prickly ant comedian of the sort that struggles to earn recognition on the circuit. In a bug-eyed, bulbous costume and behind a glower of persecuted pride, Ant channels every upcoming, ethnic, female or marginalised stand-up, craving recognition for his uniqueness yet ultimately, angrily, pandering to expectations with a series of ant puns. Something of an in-joke for regulars, the character still has resonance outside this realm.
Christie is to be admired for warming up for herself with such an antagonistic creation, especially as Ant’s struggle mirrors her own. Beyond Edinburgh, there isn’t much commercial demand for comics portraying historical characters as she usually does.
Her great charm and frequent undoing is her refusal to compromise.
She just about succeeds with a series of superb, recurring Andrew Lloyd Webber scenarios but pretty much bombs with an equally convoluted routine about Nick Clegg.
The question of how far Christie’s self-sabotage is now a part of the persona she’s forged for herself remains tantalisingly in the air.