In retrospect, screeching Dexy’s Midnight Runners on stage without even a pair of denim dungarees for protection was a big mistake. My already struggling voice, which had begun to show signs of recovery, was shredded. And I had a show to do.

There are three comedians in Three Man Roast. We have cunningly concealed a clue to this fact in the name. Yesterday, two of them did very well. The other one of them, having managed to screw his larynx, struggled through his set trying with only some success to get punchlines out without his voice cracking over the most crucial syllables. In hindsight, I like to think the relative quiet from the audience was generosity: they didn’t want to drown out my quiet lines with laughter. That was kind of them.

One audience member did come up to me afterwards and say she enjoyed my set which is always lovely to here but was particularly appreciated after straining through it.

I did innovate two responses to my impairment. I lip-synced to a recording of part of my set, which elicited bafflement more than anything else, but, for the record, my lip-syncing was very technically accomplished. Alex suggested it may have been too accomplished and the audience thought I was just talking. Dan suggested I had become my own Blackpool drag act.

The second innovation was a cracking joke about Robert Redford that frankly didn’t get the recognition it deserved.

It’s fair to say I was a bit dejected, but I was cheered up by a cuppa, some vitamin pills and stumbling across Ronnie Corbett and Paul Daniels within five minutes of each other. Go, Edinburgh.

And while I thought I had a bad gig, I shouldn’t be complacent as I still had a better gig than the guy whose show I went to see in the evening. He had one audience member turn up: me. So he took me to the pub, which was nice, and we pretended it was a one-to-one immersive theatre experience.

The third and final Karaoke Circus of the run was another joyous occasion. In the bar afterwards, I met half of the Beta Males and was able to tell them how much I enjoyed their show. I may have had a few drinks and added a lot of people on Facebook on the way home.

What I learnt today: The iPhone’s Facebook app needs a breathalyser built in. Or maybe a logic test that you need to be sober to beat, like the one in GMail. The same goes for Twitter.

Recommended show: I haven’t seen it but I have been recommended M. Croser – Unpleasant Man by people of taste, so that’s today’s.

Obligatory plug: I’m in Three Man Roast (★★★★ – whatsonstage.com), 2.35pm weekdays at Finnegan’s Wake on Victoria Street – free entry.

My voice was screwed.

The combination of a low-level Fringe cold and shouting on stage most days had taken its toll and I was starting to lose the ability to speak. It’s an ability I took thoughtlessly for granted. Turns out it’s a pretty key skill when it comes to doing stand-up in Edinburgh.

Although I was croaky, the show went well and I was able to catch up with a number of friends from the audience over a pint afterwards. In an attempt to add tuberculosis to my vocal problems, I then headed down to the dankness of the Caves to see Danny Pensive. Not that I’d have got tuberculosis as I demonstrated immunity when tested at school. Take that, BCG losers.

I had three reasons for seeing Danny Pensive’s Map of Britain: he was a scream at Comedy Countdown; a friend recommended his show; and he’s a Doctor Who fan.

There are quite a few fanboys (it’s a non-gender-specific term) performing in Edinburgh. I’ve been trying to make a list – obviously, because that’s what fanboys do. And here I don’t mean people who like Doctor Who a bit; I mean people who like Doctor Who a lot. People who have the DVDs and actually watch the DVD extras. People who subscribe to Doctor Who Magazine. People who know their Sagacity from their City of Death.

So far I’ve got me and Dan from Three Man Roast (of course); John Cooper (aka Danny Pensive); Michael Legge; Tom Neenan from off of the Gentleman of Leisure (the old GOL); Andrew O’Neill; John Henry Falle from the Beta Males; Marc Burrows (from The 90s in Half an Hour); and Mitch Benn. Stuart Goldsmith and John-Luke Roberts from The Behemoth have question marks next to their names. Do grab them in the street and check. (Update: Luke Roberts – I don’t know why I doubted it. But I foolishly overlooked Colin Hoult and Tom Bell.)

Any more for any more? That list is, surprise surprise, uniformly male so far.

I’m not going to round these people up or anything. Although the Nazis probably said that too to begin with.

The evening’s entertainment was the middle show in the three-day run of the glorious Karaoke Circus. Nathan the Trombonist let me put my name down for all of the songs, as is my foolish way. It was particularly foolish on this occasion with my fading voice managing a workable singing range of around half an octave. I knocked back some Covonia and hoped for the best.

It was another marvellous night. Highlights included Robin Ince’s Two Little Boys (not a euphemism); Tim Vine’s disturbing one-piece PVC jumpsuit as Plastic Elvis; and Nadia Kamil and Joe Lycett performing Cee Lo Green’s uncensored big hit that may not be named (this is a family blog, we don’t say “fuck” here). I landed the last audience open spot.

Some of the songs would have been OK. Some of the songs didn’t have two many notes. Unfortunately, I was summoned to sing Come on Eileen. This, it turns out, has all of the notes and if your voice is a bit weak, it has the potential to sound the laryngal death knell.

I fear Eileen will have been less spurred on and more scared off.

Still, I got to show off my new Karaoke Circus t-shirt, as snapped by Isabelle:

What I learnt today: When you have a weak voice, rest it, you idiot.

Recommended show: Danny Pensive’s Map of Britain

Obligatory plug: I’m in Three Man Roast (★★★★ – whatsonstage.com), 2.35pm weekdays at Finnegan’s Wake on Victoria Street – free entry.