Edinburgh landlords, what are they like? Or Edinburgh landladies come to that. Picture the scene last week. There I am, standing in a city flat with the landlady fingering the grime on the cooker and bleating about the mess left by her most recent tenants.

Mess, I’m thinking, is in the eye of the beholder. I mean, here is a woman who has partitioned a rather lovely double-windowed Georgian drawing room lengthways to form two narrow, cell-like bedrooms. Mess? I’d call that a mess.

But it’s precisely this kind of interior design that many an Edinburgh landlady revels in, particularly as the festival nears. Just think of the money to be made from a profitable August let, however dreadful the flat. And true to form my new friend happily confirms she’s expecting a very comfortable two grand for the month — perhaps three times the normal figure for such a grotty two-bedroomed affair.

What is it about the festival spirit that brings out the venal in many fellow residents? I don’t know who will end up in that sadly partitioned dwelling, but the odds are they’ll be fringe performers. And to try and cover the cost they’ll be forced to push up ticket prices, passing the burden on to the audience.

Not that it’s just the landlords and letting agencies that are cashing in. Some of the fringe venues effectively operate as rental agencies rather than arts producers.

They hire buildings for the month, put in the electrics, recruit staff at a minimal wage and then rent out rooms by the hour to the artists. No wonder you never see an off-duty comedian crack a smile.

I can think of one venue that charges £6,000 to rent an average-sized room for an hour-long show. The performers have to meet that cost, plus all the extras: advertising, a technician, a leaflet, and the rest.

It’s a weird Catch-22 situation in which the venue owners have an inbuilt immunity from criticism. After all, would any performer complain when to do so might make it appear they had an unsuccessful run at the fringe? Better to shut up, see the bank manager and put it down to experience.

Now you might say it’s just Tommy having his usual whinge. But I’ll tell you this. Unless we are a little more friendly and generous to performers and a little more hostile to those on the make, the reputation of the festival, and the city, is in jeopardy.

Tommy Sheppard is director of the Stand Comedy Club

Times Recommends

• Swine flu vaccine for all as drug rushed through
• Artificial sperm and the race to build a baby
• BBC jets out stars to tout for prizes