Casting the Runes, Pleasance Courtyard ★★★★

Rob Auton, Assembly @Roxy ★★★★

Rob Auton has previously done shows around a theme – the colour yellow, hair, the sky, to name a few - because, he says, he can become a little bit obsessed with a subject. Now, though, he wants to do his most personal show yet, hence The Rob Auton Show.

Groomed Pleasance Dome ★★★★

“How can a truth be told? How can a secret be spoken?” Patrick Sandford asks in Groomed, his searingly honest account of his experience of abuse by a teacher at primary school several decade ago. Over 50 minutes he recounts his tale, weaving in other stories to illuminate his own.

FOOD, The Studio ★★★

There’s no denying it: Los Angeles-born Geoff Sobelle is a theatrical magician (quite literally – it’s how he began his career). Through a string of visually spectacular shows on the Fringe and more recently at the International Festival, he’s unleashed wildlife into the streets of Edinburgh, drawn aeons of history from a cardboard box, and even constructed an entire house on stage.

Heaven, Traverse Theatre ★★★★★

Stuntman, Summerhall ★★★★★

Ania Magliano, Pleasance Courtyard ★★★

When Ania Magliano made her Fringe debut last year, her show was rightly garlanded with four- and five-star reviews. She sounded like an original voice on the comedy scene and this year her show, I Can’t Believe You’ve Done This, sold out its entire run before the festival opened.

Ed Byrne Assembly Rooms ★★★★★

Ed Byrne has frequently referenced his loved ones in previous shows but this new hour is one he would never wanted to have written, as it was prompted by the death of his younger brother, Paul, last year. Its title, Tragedy Plus Time, is taken from an aphorism attributed to Mark Twain about the definition of humour.

The Death and Life of All of Us, Summerhall ★★★★

Victor Esses was 16 when he first discovered his grandmother had a sister – someone the family had never discussed. It was just a year after his own first illicit visit to a gay sauna.

In a very real sense, Terry Pratchett taught me how to write. I first came across his work when I was 12 years old, in the early 90s.

My parents had been given copies of two of the earliest books in his Discworld series, Guards! Guards! and The Colour of Magic, by a bloke down the pub – which is how you’re supposed to get Discworld books – and, knowing that I was an utter nerd with a preposterously overactive imagination and a love of silly humour, passed them down to me.