Three Weeks 
Holy shit this is funny. As in, my stomach muscles hurt from giggling so hard. As in, my eyeliner’s all over my face because I was literally crying with laughter. It’s that good. A classic sketch show, this is juvenile, ridiculous, puerile and at the same time, very charming. It starts with Jesus, ends with Hitler, and has pretty much everything in between. Even some nice songs. If you want the Fringe to be about experimental, thought-provoking physical theatre, you will not enjoy this. Not even a little. If you want great comedy and new talent, you won’t find better, though I suggest leaving the kids at home. Give them a few more years before their minds are warped to this extent.
Fest 
The problem with reviewing fringe acts is that you begin to think only in terms of star ratings. All of your critical faculties and all of the wonderful things in life are reduced to a number between 1 and 5. All well and good for rating sexual partners and how much you love your kids, but the system becomes an arithmetical minefield when you’re reviewing a sketch show. Do you rate each sketch and take the average? The median? The mode? Surely not the freakin interquartile range? H-Bam, a group of students from Trinity College Dublin, are getting the average treatment. Most of the sketches in Stop Fistfighting, You’re Pregnant are genuinely funny and original and they sparkle on stage in a very unstudenty way. Dressed in sharp black suits, they are confident and work well together with a clever mix of edgey cynicism and knockabout clowning. The only problem comes in the middle of the hour when, after some fantastic ensemble pieces (including an alternative last supper and the personification of STDs), things fall back into a bit of a comfort zone. Some of the sketches slip into three star territory, but normal service is soon resumed with a final fifteen minutes of back-to-back four and five starrers. Fans of the interquartile range method will no doubt be wringing their grubby hands at this. H-Bam have got a lot of talent, and they’re all good actors but, most importantly, they’ve taken the time to write witty, sharp scripts for the ideas they have come up with. In the final analysis, the ideas which don’t come are off are more than compensated for by a dozen or so genuinely brilliant, comic scenes which really hit the mark. Just like that last comma. thrill: Hitler’s schnitzel obsession. spill: A couple of Fast Show style repetitions.
Hairline
This show is what a comedy show should be. You’re sitting there when suddenly, the sketches are flying at you, fast and furious, the entire show whirring around you like a kaleidoscope, except the colours of the rainbow have been replaced by all the different kinds of comedy you know and love and you have no clue what’s coming next. Political, social and familial satire, slapstick, and self-deprecation as only the Irish can do it (they mention cows – and they’re off).
These are highly talented young performers delivering sometimes shockingly honest opinions of the obsessions of the moment. From reality TV to paedophilia, with lots of stops on the way, this series of bizarre meanderings is nothing short of comic genius.
The sheer lunacy of the H-BAM journey makes it impossible not to get involved, even if a part of you is slightly appalled that these guys can make anything funny.
The only disappointment on offer in this show is the fact that it ever has to end. Which means (dare I say it?) it’s a must-see for this year’s festival.