THE Edinburgh Fringe is the home of the dreamer: the talented, the going-places, the deluded, the couldn’t-be-doing-anything-else. With many priced out, it still, just about, hangs together, like a forest of trees with glue-stick leaves. The Fringe comes alive after midnight, during the wee summer hours of darkness when still being out and sharing silly ideas feels mildly transgressive. Talking of clowns, many in Edinburgh this year are mourning Philippe Gaulier, who died in February after decades imparting blunt wisdom about theatre and physical comedy via his “legendarily terrifying teaching style.” This year’s sketch comedy acts of choice are BeHeMoth, Siblings (actual siblings), and Crybabies.