Making it onto the illustrious cast of Saturday Night Live could easily make a comedian's reputation precede them. But in truth, Sarah Sherman’s act is so uniquely engaging and absurd that Edinburgh seems like its natural home. From behind a black curtain, the 29-year-old Long Islander introduces herself onto the stage before her head pokes out to say hello. Her floating face, revealing signature aviator glasses and mullet, already has the crowd in stitches, an opportunity Sherman grabs with both hands and extends for minutes on end before finally stepping out to reveal an oversized clown costume. 

The first half of tonight’s show was mainly rooted in stand-up, although there is certainly nothing traditional about Sherman’s techniques. Punchlines come in the form of intense repetition, unsavoury noises bellowed into the mic or borderline abuse hurled at the audience. Yet somehow the chaos lands. Impressions of her father (played as a quintessential Jewish man from New York City) apply the groundwork for some of the hour’s most polished jokes, including one where she explains the concept of ‘Jewish Geography’. Using only her father’s connections, Sherman attempts to help an aspiring writer in the audience secure an opportunity to work in the entertainment industry, in a ‘bit’ she insists wasn’t worth the energy she put into it.

Aside from her character work, fans of Sherman know to expect the grotesque, and right on cue the comedian cum visual artist uses graphics and stop motion to distort the female body with references to unruly pubic hair, shaving and menstruation. One particularly gruesome clip of a hangnail being ripped off makes the room squirm but a game of ‘Guess The Type Of Blood’ won everyone back around. 

To say Sherman’s show isn’t for everyone would be an understatement (even fans of her work were pushed to their limits in this hour). But the creativity and idiosyncrasy of her humour is like a bad smell you just have to keep sniffing. Her ability to control the beat of a room and generate laughter from the darkest crevices of her mind is a testament to the comic’s grasp on absurdism. Let’s hope those SNL bosses unclip her wings next season . . . 

Gilded Balloon Teviot, until 21 August, 10.30pm.