Tricity Vogue's voice has a peculiar tone that suggests everything she says is really an innuendo. The effect is that we hang on her every word, waiting for a double-entendre that will never come - in spoken form, anyway. In her songs, a racier style is let out, seemingly innocent subject matter laced with something far more lewd. As a compere, she is engaging, encouraging and wholly enticing, coaxing a few seat-dances out of the early-evening audience within the first few minutes.
What follows, as with many shows, is variable from night to night. The Ukulele Cabaret features three acts from elsewhere on the Fringe, so in theory each night can be as diverse as a random flick through the programme, though in practice the emphasis will be on comedy, song and uke abuse. For us, these were provided by a sketch troupe, a ukulele-based Christmas song and a male burlesque artist respectively.
What the show lacks in polished professionalism it makes up in charm and good humour. Vogue, resplendent in a brightly-coloured dress from some time in the 1950s, wears a fully-functional golden ukulele on her head which acts as a prize for the best of the acts. This is not only a visual treat, but one of the best puns I've ever heard. Whoever dubbed this four-stringed wonder, ‘the Uke of Edinburgh Award’ deserves some kind of medal.
Whether the start of a night or the end of an evening, Vogue's charismatic cabaret can easily put a smile on your face. It's easy to see why this has been pulling in punters for three years already. The ukuleles need a little extra tuning every now and then, but when strings are tightened and ready to go, this is an incredibly entertaining evening and a great mixed bag from around the Fringe.
