Shappi Khorsandi: Me and My Brother in Our Pants, Holding Hands

Unlike most people, Shappi Khorsandi has a very interesting family. For instance, in one well documented incident the Iranian leader Ayatollah Khomeini sent assassins to kill her father, an exile in England. Not the usual dinner party chat. They failed—of course—which is why the story is appropriate for a comedy show.

So it is understandable that Khorsandi would look to her nearest and dearest for great material. She covered her relationship with her father in a previous Fringe show and this year it is her elder brother's turn.

Khorsandi is an elegant storyteller. She exhumes vignettes from growing up in Iran and then England with her brother–only 16 months her senior. Tales of drowning chicks in her grandmother's lake and trying to "make" her brother gay are breezily shared. Khorsandi is engaging and personable enough to never let it dip below the entertaining waterline.

Yet, it never soars. It always remains at the same, chatty level, ruminating about family dynamics and how parents screw up their children. It's not great comedy. It is just—not wanting to damn with faint praise—very pleasant.

Khorsandi does cut loose at one point, though. She goes on a rant about the looters in London, calling them "joyless fuckers" and damns them for ruining many an Edinburgh show. It is also the best part of the hour. The lesson is more bite, less cosiness next time, please.