Why I love Fringe but not Edinburgh: The Groucho Syndrome

Introspection is not a luxury in which one indulges. Even so, at this time of year, it is hard not to wonder why I have only been to the Edinburgh Festival once in my life.

Actually I have fond memories of my visit particularly as the guests in my digs included members of a German theatre company none of who spoke English but who had been able to perform ‘Trafford Tanzi’ simply by memorising the script phonetically. Conversation at breakfast was a challenge.

So why have I never been back? It can’t simply be the Scots – apart from the folks serving in shops and restaurants you hardly meet any locals. If anything you’re more likely to be put off by the Londoners and media types that are drawn to the event.

The Festival really ought to be right up my street being stuffed with the weird and wonderful fringe events to which I rush in Manchester. Which may, I fear, be the deterrent.

Groucho Marx famously turned down membership of any club that would tolerate someone like him as a member. Afraid I might be subject to the same syndrome. Or to put it less obliquely – I’m a snob.

I’ve always been attracted to things by their rarity value. This collector’s instinct helped me amass a fine collection of comics (anyone wanna see ‘Amazing Fantasy ‘ number 15?) in the old fashioned way of staggering around market stalls and pornographic bookshops (that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it). But now that comics are readily available in bookshops and even libraries I’m less interested. Where’s the fun in having the comics without being able to regale covetous admirers with stories of the trouble it took to find the bloody things?

So I’ve transferred my collector’s obsessive approach from comics to theatre and continue to filter out those shows that have no rarity value. Never been attracted to the showings of filmed plays that are broadcast in cinemas. If they are on film they likely to be readily available on DVD or even BBC 4 so the need to rush to see a one-off event is absent – and so is my interest.

Fringe and Studio theatre appeal to the nasty snob instinct in me. There is always the feeling that I might be discovering something special or be amongst an elite few who are able to appreciate a rarity. At the Edinburgh Festival everyone is going to the bloody things so I’m just one in the crowd and there’s no fun in being common.

Can’t help but wonder if The Groucho Syndrome also explains my dislike of musical theatre. Perhaps it isn’t the dodgy sets and mediocre middle of the road tunes that put me off- maybe it is just the fact that the genre is so popular with other people.

So there you go – you start off considering why you don’t attend a theatre festival and end up concluding you’re an obsessive snob. Introspection is best avoided.