At 61 years of age, Paul McDermott’s energy and vitality is almost sickening. As he’s always done, McDermott commands the stage, the audience, and the room, and if you’re on board with his particular brand of comedy, you’re in for a great night. If you’re not on board, or you’re a Monarchist, or English, or right-wing conservative, there are plenty of other shows to see at this year’s Fringe Festival. Blood Orange is not for you. You’re more than welcome at McDermott’s shows, but you will be cannon fodder. If you do go, try your best to disguise any squeamish feelings you experience, unless you want to become a source of material for McDermott’s unforgiving, cutting, comic banter. No one is off limits. No one. Capitalism cops a beating from the very first line. Idiot-celebrities are far from safe, same for the hippies. McDermott’s blade-sharp wit and maniacal sense of humour make easy work of anything in his path. Joined in his third year by his faithful Cocaine Bear (guitar/rock/god Glenn Moorhouse), their harmonies add polish to a well crafted and cleverly conceived performance. The audio engineering could have used some improvement though, as some lyrics were lost on occasion. Paul and Glenn’s third collaboration together is billed as a show that tackles three large conceptual themes facing contemporary society: The fall of Empire, the rise of women, and wanking (not necessarily in that order). They certainly achieve this, but I strongly doubt it’s in a way that anyone expects. Fans of McDermott loved the show, and he attracted some new fans through the show. He also disgusted and alienated one of the patrons sitting near me, and I’m sure he’s chuffed with that. Blood Orange has its final performance on Saturday February 24. It’s McDermott at his best, and he’s loving the ride. You will too (well, some of you will).