THE question on everyone’s lips as Mark Steel took the Assembly George Square stage in his first return to the Edinburgh Fringe in 20 years was: Will he be able to restrain from mentioning his newly acquired fame at being publicly rejected as a Labour supporter?

No great surprise, then, to find out that he couldn’t. But he didn’t allow it to interrupt the flow of Who Do I Think I Am? — the intriguing story of someone adopted from birth, an experience which ultimately had less influence on him than his upbringing in Swanley, Kent. 

What emerges from a fascinating story is that Steel, far from being the offspring of a north London mother and French father, is in fact half-Scottish and half Egyptian-Jewish.

That, however, is less than half the story. The scourge of British capitalism, whose socialism was fed by the unacceptable face of capitalism exemplified by the corruption of “Tiny” Rowlands, Sir James Goldsmith and their ilk, has discovered that his birth father is a Wall Street trader and backgammon champion, who played with them in London’s swanky Claremont Club.

Needless to say, that discovery doesn’t lessen the acerbic tongue that Steel employs to flay those who suggest that the financial crisis is caused by the poor having too much money or that allowing gay marriage somehow devalues “straight” nuptials.

That story, demonstrating how our background is the main driver in the formation of our character, also allows Steel’s softer side to emerge, especially in the clear love for his adoptive parents and in the empathy with his birth mother and, in particular, her family. 

They are revealed as Socialist Party supporters and, as an ex-SWP member, that represents Steel’s very own People’s Front of Judea moment.

What Steel’s show typifies is the move of many of the more experienced political stand-ups into more personal, narrative-based material.

Mark Thomas is also experiencing that journey with both his Bravo Figaro and Cuckooed shows. But the personal is very much the political in Steel’s case, especially as he wagers that his birth father wouldn’t have been rejected from supporting the Labour Party. G

et a ticket if you can.A children’s panto show on science teaching is certainly unusual and challenging but The Periodic Fable at The Assembly Rooms makes perfect sense. 

Designed to reclaim science for everyone and away from the clutches of the geeks, it commendably shares a lot of space — and some of the jokes — with E4’s The Big Bang Theory.

It also challenges gender stereotyping and one of the key premises outlined by writer Bruce Morton and collaborator Zara Gladman is that science is for both genders. The response to the show from the children present shows that it’s an approach that works.

Performers Erin Discarder and Karen Fraser establish an instant rapport with the young audience and the “evil” Bruce Morton creates the panto vibe.

Like any good panto, there’s also something in it for the adults, with topical references like the “girls in the lab” gaffe of biochemist Sir Tim Hunt and puns — Van red Giraffe Generator, anyone — sprinkled among the songs, physical activity and experiments.

The wit of the show succeeds in bridging any awkward gaps and its short length and small cast means it should easily transfer to other venues after its run here. 

In these days of tribute bands and rehashing of classic albums, how do you pay tribute to an artist such as Captain Beefheart, so original that he hardly ever played his own material the same way twice.

That’s the problem facing Orange Claw Hammer’s Beefheart’n’Cheeze II at Henry’s Cellar Bar, whose title is taken from a track from the classic Trout Mask Replica album.

A four-piece formed by saxophonist and composer Steve Kettle to celebrate the immortal Captain, they use Beefheart’s music as a starting-off point and tracks like Click Clack and Veterans’ Day Poppy get an inspirational treatment rather than as mere covers. 

Primarily instrumental, few attempts are made to replicate Van Juliet’s gravel voice and exotic lyrics although it sounds like Kettle could have a good crack at it from the few examples delivered. 

That it works is down to Kettle’s sax playing, Stuart Mallard’s guitar and the love of the blues-based, free-form style that is the real connection between Orange Claw Hammer and Beefheart’s Magic Band.

It isn’t Beefheart — the lack of vocals alone ensures that —but in its instrumental homage, perhaps it is a truer tribute. Support Kings of Wheeze with their folk-rock, jazz-influenced style are a perfect starter to the main menu, with guitarist Dave Gray and the unique tones of vocalist Trish Murry leading a fine band. 

If you like your music more on the arhythmic track, both these acts are for you.