YOU see some funny things, standing in a queue at Edinburgh Comic Con.

Funny, that is, if you're so far out of the entire Comic Con orbit that the last comic you remember buying was the Dandy, when you were still at primary school.

Waiting to get into the convention, at Potterrow on Saturday, I found myself behind a group of young blokes. One was dressed in a white judo-style outfit with a red headband, and fake plastic muscles. Another wore a blue, satiny top, with white bows in his hair. A third had a leonine mass of hair, and a stretchy green top that he could pull up over his face. My ignorance was lamentable. Who were they meant to be?

Behind me was a young woman in a platinum wig and distinctive black coat. Something out of anime? Manga? Something Japanese, anyway. Nearby, a Star Wars stormtrooper in a battle-damaged outfit chatted to someone in the queue and a passerby took a photo of a kilt-wearing Spider-Man, telling him: "Best costume of the day so far."

This was just the queue. What would it be like inside? I paid £10 for a wristband, and found the answer: Mobbed. Utterly mobbed. Especially upstairs, where many exhibitors and the panel-discussion venue were to be found. Some fans were carrying tridents, which seemed reckless in such a crowd. Maybe the tridents were just made of cardboard and glitter, but I didn't want to find out the hard way.

The stands were doing well. One, run by Comicsus, a locally-based company, had as its pitch: 'If you can imagine it, we can draw it'. Another stand offered something known as 'Sentient Zombie Space Pigs'. I didn't catch what it actually was, and idly wondered whether Comicsus could draw one. There were countless magazines for sale: Deadpool, X Men, Guardians of the Galaxy, The Incredible Hulk. Action figures, too. A Doctor Who (David Tennant one, I think) for £35, his Martha Jones companion for £10 less. You could buy cells of actual movies - Gladiator, Lord of the Rings, etc - framed or unframed. There was artwork for sale, jewellery, Breaking Bad merchandise. You name it, it was probably here.

There were also lots of big, real-life stars from the world of film franchises and cult TV. Spencer Wilding - Batman Begins, Doctor Who, Guardians of the Galaxy - was a popular draw, as was the diminutive but lethally adept contortionist, Pixie Le Knot, who struck poses for photographs that would have had ordinary mortals in traction for months.

I sat in on one panel discussion, in which the chair, comics expert John McShane, questioned two guests about current reboots at Marvel and DC. McShane said something interesting: it wasn't America that invented the comic book, but Glasgow, with a venerable publication known as The Glasgow Looking Glass (apparently, it was first published in 1825). "However," McShane added, "America did engage the attention of the whole world over the last 75 years with its iconic characters." Marvel is now one of the world's biggest publishing companies, and has a huge slate of superhero movies.

More interesting costumes on display, back in the exhibitors' area. A guy dressed in a skin-tight Riddler outfit. Several Doctor Who's and Darth Vaders, and a middle-age Batman. A woman, early 20s, in a sparkly princess dress. Anime? Manga? Elsa, Princess of Arendelle, from Frozen? Whatever it was, it looked striking.

The Comic Con, I have to say, all looked rather fun. I ended up wishing I'd got more into the comic book genre. Later, I read a tweet by the formidable Mark Millar (writer of Kick-Ass, Wanted, and Kingsman: The Secret Service), who has the right idea: "Bought my 3 year old daughter the complete Adam West Batman box-set today. We've watched 6 of 120 episodes already. So great!"

The Edinburgh Comic Con (one of many being staged in the UK this year) says in its programme notes that it aims to bring the best "from the world of comic books, movies and TV shows, putting the event on the map as an international convention." At this rate, it should succeed.

In the downstairs bar, where it's slightly less crowded, I meet the Star Wars stormtrooper in the authentically battle-damaged uniform. His name is Andrew, he's a lorry driver, and a father of two. "It's mad, in a really good way, to see people so enthusiastic about their comic-book and television heroes," he said. "The fact that you see little kids coming up as well, growing up into the comic-book world, makes me quite happy.

"It's good, it's fantastic. Everybody is friendly. Nobody's nasty to each other. That's what counts: atmosphere. If you have too many people niggling at each other, it ruins it for everybody. But everybody has been really friendly, so it's turning out just nicely."

Andrew has been interested in science-fiction "since I was very small, and it has grown up with me." He has collected comics and memorabilia for the last 20 years. "You get a good mix of characters here - Star Trek, comic books, Japanese animation, people just turning up in kilts ...There's a few characters going about from Street Fighter, the video game, as well.

"It proves that conventions like cover all genres," he adds. And ages, I say. "Exactly. I mean, I'm 42 years of age, and I know there are people here in costume who are older than me. It just shows how enthusiastic we are, and how much we want to support it."

A couple of hours later, heading for the station, I meet someone I haven't seen for years. She has a pair of angel's wings on her back. "Good Comic Con, wasn't it?" I ask her. She looks at me quizzically. No wonder. Turns out she was on her way to a hen night.