Brian Ferguson’s diary
It is probably one of the least appropriate anniversaries to be celebrating – but it really is a full decade since the Great Fringe Box Office Fiasco.
It is still eye-watering to recall how the Fringe Society was brought to the brink of financial ruin by a meltdown of a new ticketing system, which failed on its first day of sales and never really recovered.
Bitter recriminations, emergency bail-outs and a ten per cent slump in ticket sales dominated the headlines in August before society director Jon Morgan fell on his sword, while the Fringe was left some £900,000 out of pocket.
I had a wave of nostalgia for such chaotic times as the city council became embroiled in, for my money, the biggest festival fiasco since then.
The Battle of the Princes Street Barriers falls firmly into the category of a controversy which could easily have been avoided had even a modicum of common sense been applied.
But instead council leader Adam Mcvey has tied himself and his colleagues up in knots over the new barriers, which were threatening to block out views of the Ross Bandstand and Edinburgh Castle from Princes Street for the entire festival.
He was beginning to backtrack almost as soon as he declared the removal of the barriers, erected by the organisers of the new Summer Sessions concerts,
Adam Mcvey, below, had the offending screens removed
seemingly before speaking to the police or his own safety officials. Within 24 hours of them coming down they were going back up and plans to close pavements and bus stops were scrapped. Back to school for all involved.
A few more epic rants about the stewardship of the city during the festival season have emerged.
The most miserable yet – entitled It’s Grim Up North – comes courtesy of “alternative Fringe magazine” Fringepig. It blames “council
lunacy” for turning the New Town from a bustling hub into “the town that fun forgot” and expresses outrage at efforts to encourage a greater spread of venues to areas like Fountainbridge – “a part of the world’s most beautiful city that’s been modelled on post-war Coventry”.
As my office colleagues know too well, I never tire of repeating the mantra that I have nothing to do with reviews – before, during or after the Fringe.
But the debate on the “state of arts criticism” at Fringe Central had me more gripped than many shows I’ve watched this month.
I sat bolt upright at this declaration from long-time reviewer Lyn Gardner: “We’re not working anywhere near as hard as the artists are. We’ve got it kind of cushy.”