05/08/2013 09:53 BST | Updated 30/09/2013 06:12 BST

Laugh, Don't Leak - Comedy and Continence

Andrea Mann

Have you ever had a blindingly good idea at Late O'Clock - and it's Such A Genius Notion that you have hopped out of bed, fired up the computer and actioned your cleverness right there and then? Before you have time to catch yourself on?

Well, I did that. Months ago, I decided to do a Fringe show. I have no understanding about The Arts whatsoever, I'm a physiotherapist. My astonishingly-clever-at-the-time idea was to use the biggest arts event in the world to break down the taboo surrounding incontinence. Made perfect sense at the time.

It is a universally acknowledged truth that satistics are dull, unless they are shocking. Well, how's this - a third of women aged between 35 and 55 wet themselves when they cough or sneeze. Most of them never seek help. They just pad up and die a little inside - which is a shame because 80% of simple stress incontinence can be completely cured by pelvic floor exercises.

And, it makes me cross, because, having less control over your bladder than your toddler has makes you utterly miserable, and it's not an inevitable consequence of parenthood - you don't need to put up with it. There's plenty enough in life to make you miserable without adding soggy underwear into the mix.

So, my blindingly good idea was to write and perform a solo comedy show about pelvic floors. Because, if you can make people laugh then you can make them talk. And, if you can talk about something it ceases to be embarrassing or awkward. Makes sense, right?

The show starts tomorrow. How do you think I'm feeling right now? Yep, like a right daftie. A panic stricken daftie.

Today I have run myself ragged around Edinburgh, flyering, postering, picking up passes, and figuring out where the best flyering spots are, and done my best to wring the last drop of funny out of what passes for a script. Or, the first drop of funny, should you be the sort of person who does not find fart jokes amusing.

I live in Edinburgh, I mean I actually live here all the time. Few Fringers realise that Edinburgh isn't a pop up city beneath a flat pack castle. Nope, "we're here all year folks!", not just August and Hogmanay.

Locals fall into two camps - the ones who take a week off work to "Do" the Fringe, and the sensible ones who avoid Silly Season by hiding out in the suburbs and ignoring the lunacy. I have made myself a part of the thing we quietly grumble about when we can't sit on the bus because some guy's double bass has the last one. And, I'm not sure I belong in this sparkly, jazz hands, made up Edinburgh.

I've heard about the "buzz" the Festivals create - but, I'm surprised to find that it's actually true. It's like someone seeded our rainclouds by sprinkling the skies with Happy Potion. Walking past a drag artist dressed as Mary Queen of Scots puts a spring in your step.

A comedy show about incontinence, sheesh. Who'd come and see that?

Would you? Pretty please?