The Gilded Balloon’s latest initiative, squeezing multiple headliners from across the UK onto mixed bills and touring them in concentrated bursts around the country certainly has promise. Not least as there’s a commitment to sharing this strong standard of stand-up outside the central belt. However, this debut incarnation, which had appeared in Dundee and Galashiels before an Edinburgh Queen’s Hall show, has some issues that perhaps need tweaking.

For instance, it was noticeable that this evening’s line-up (and those booked for the next few shows) generally skew a bit younger than their audience, who can afford the better part of £30 to take a punt on comics with television credits and some critical acclaim but who aren’t, in the main, household names yet. Showcased in the venerable Queen’s Hall’s with its high-ceilinged, starkly exposing converted church atmosphere, it made for a mismatch of tone, with three of the five acts uncertain how to pitch their material.

The always amiable Chris Forbes as compere and Paisley’s assured storyteller Liam Farrelly took the wise approach of not second guessing themselves. The latter continues to justify favourable comparisons to Kevin Bridges while displaying enough gently absurd originality in his reflections on being a young father and exasperated owner of guinea pigs to reaffirm his status as a talent to watch.

The rascally Rosco McClelland turned his trepidation about sharing his newfound love for ‘eating ass’ into a positive, unwilling to dump the routine when faced with resistance, earning credit for his pig-headed persistence and lack of stiffness in jumping in and out of it with more sanitised whimsy about getting his teeth fixed. Having early on established his endearing, philosophical oddball persona, those watching may not have (outwardly) related but they were willing to indulge him.

It was noticeable that Thanyia Moore earned a hearty round of appreciation for her opening set. Despite voicing concern that her material about being a fierce auntie and her south London Black experience weren’t landing with a predominantly white audience, this insecurity proved unwarranted; even if her ardently delivered routines were solidly amusing rather than spectacular.

In the headline spot, Catherine Bohart has lately found a rich seam in snarkily baiting heteronormativity with her upfront bisexuality, incest gags adding a wickedly naughty edge to material that’s refreshingly frank on sex and fragile mental health. Her crowd work was less sure-footed though, an incredulous reaction to a watching aunt and nephew dovetailing nicely with her unlawfully close-families preoccupation. But her interactions with a couple of long-term straight couples in the front rows was just ever so slightly, frostily awkward, occasionally approaching outright antagonism, even if those she spoke to could have been more receptive.

The Big Fab Comedy Show tours in November and March with various line-ups; reviewed at Queen’s Hall, Edinburgh.