To see one of the most exciting new acts of the year, make your way sharpish to this all-Dutch hour of stand-up. The five-man bill is variable. But as soon as Hans Teeuwen, the headliner, takes to the stage, the room crackles with a rare comic energy. Teeuwen, 40, is a big name in the Netherlands. But he has not performed in his native tongue for three years, since the murder of his friend, the film director Theo van Gogh, by Mohammed Bouyeri, an Islamic extremist. If Teeuwen is out to restart his career in a new language, then game very much on.

Looking like Nick Cave, looming like Jim Carrey, he plies nonsense with Olympian commitment. He comes on stuttering with mock nerves – “F-f-f-fasten y-your s-seatbelts” – a whiskery gag made new by the sheer conviction of its delivery.

Speaking, like the others, in accented but near-faultless English, he embraces party tricks (Popeye the Sailor Man played on his cheeks) and absurdist shaggy dog stories (his father was a magician who could pull top hats out of rabbits, he tells us) with both discipline and abandon.

He is, like a young Steve Martin or a Jerry Sadowitz of any age, a wild and crazy guy. He plays 20 minutes. It’s not nearly enough.

The other comics are enjoyable without ever quite making you forget the novelty value of their nationality. Micha Wertheim, the compere, holds the stage with a relishable dry wit, reflecting how a Fringe play about a suicide bombing in Tel Aviv has educated him: “With hindsight,” he deadpans, “I wish the Holocaust had never happened.”

Kees van Amstel, who looks like an exfoliated Sean Lock, assumes impressive cockney, scally and Scottish accents. He’s done his research by teaching in a North London school: “A comprehensive,” he informs us, “is a place where they teach English children to be bastards.”

Steef Cuijpers, who looks and sounds like Mark Thomas, and Hans Sibbel, whose ironic material about the handicapped is probably easier to interpret in his native tongue, are slightly less impressive. But for novelty value and, more than half the time, pure comic value, this is a great way to round off the Fringe.

Ends Sunday. Box office: 0131-623 3030