Sarah Kendall may not yet be a household name over here but back in her native Australia she's already been a sell out at the Sydney Opera House.

This summer she was nominated for the Perrier Award; no mean feat, considering that the last woman to grace the shortlist was Jenny clair, who won back in 1995. For such a prestigious and influential award, it seems strange Perrier does little to raise the profile of women in comedy.

"I don't know why that is," Sarah muses. "Every time the list comes out so many amazing female comedians are overlooked: Julia Morris, Jo Caulfield, Lucy Porter. It's a real conundrum."

Earnest and self-effacing, Sarah hasn't let the accolades go to her head.

"The Perrier nomination was a lovely surprise. But the phenomenon seems only to exist in Edinburgh. When you come back to London, people are like, 'What are you talking about?' It puts the whole thing in perspective. I honestly don't understand how anyone can say, 'These are the five best shows in Edinburgh'. Most of the shows are beyond comparison."

In spite of her modesty, Sarah's eponymously-titled show has been a major success. Her detailed post mortem of her own social ineptitudes appears to have struck a universal chord, which is more surprising for her than anyone else.

"I thought I was a bit of a nut bag," she confides, "but when I was talking about it on stage, I realised just how wound up everybody is. To be honest, it was quite nice to find that out."

She has a knack for making her problems public in such a way that she keeps the audience laughing with her, not at her - mainly because we know we've all been there as well. Few of us, however, would have the nerve to confess our social blunders to complete strangers.

"It does seem like a weird kind of logic," she laughs. "But when you're on stage it's very empowering. It's much easier for me to tell a room full of people that when I get nervous I tell lies than it is to actually experience it."

Sarah likes Brighton's chilled-out audiences. "You don't want people to be too happy, though. People need the impetus to go to a show so there has to be a certain level of misery."

Sarah's sunny disposition and ability to see the funny side in anything are sure to convince even the most miserable of people.

Start: 7.30pm, Tickets £10/£11