Life may have given Mars his fair share of lemons, but instead of making lemonade, a yawnworthy theme he continually comes back to, he's squeezed the metaphorical citrus dry leaving nothing but a sour pulp. Nervous and sweaty, the three-strong audience presumably doing nothing for his wits, Mars stumbles through a set that swings erratically between entirely unoriginal fare and attempts at surrealism that fall utterly flat. In between this there's a lengthy section on superheroes which manages to be both slightly homophobic and sexist (he states that girls probably won't enjoy/understand this part – unwise when your audience is two-thirds female). Mars is all too aware of his failings, often apologising for some of his material, which is awkward instead of endearing. Save your cash and pop into a pub on the Royal Mile – you'll find the same standard of Dad banter there.

Surgeons Hall, 0845 508 8515, until 25 Aug, 9.50pm, £7.50.