As the chaos surrounding ticket mix-ups roared on unabated and reports claimed the Fringe was dead, Tom Shields jumped on a Waverley-bound train at Glasgow Queen Street in search of the true spirit of the Edinburgh festival

As the Edinburgh Festival Fringe box office descended into chaos and The Times of London printed an article asking earnestly if the spirit of the festival has been killed, it seemed like an opportune time for a Glaswegian to go east and just make sure everything really was going badly.

The ticket office had been billed as the best farce in town. Oh, what a circus, oh, what a show. The ingredients were there. Tickets paid for more than once and still lost in the system. Tickets in the post which had not arrived. Tickets which arrived but belonged to other people and shows.

Festival-goers who had taken a day off work to queue for tickets were then told they could have picked them up at the venue, actually.

It was a recipe for conflict and violence, but the business was conducted mostly very politely between an understanding public and desperately attentive Fringe staff. Nothing to see here, sir, move on.

So, I went in search of the dead spirit of the festival. The Times correspondent was exercised by the secession of the big comedy venues from the Fringe. No big deal, you might have thought. Exit the stand-ups letting the Fringe focus more on earnest drama students from obscure American universities.

A lady I met in the ticket office queue agreed to be my native guide.

She should remain nameless, but her name is Alison Campbell from Portobello and is well-known to the film industry as well as writing many of Terry Wogan's better lines on Radio 2.

Ms Campbell said the festival should be most attractive to Weegies this year - the ticket chaos enhances the chances of blagging free entry to shows.

"And Greggs have announced they will be open on Sundays and later on weekdays during the festival. I don't know if the charity shops are extending their hours to cater for Glaswegians in pursuit of retail therapy," she said.

This from an Edinburgh lady who offered me a receptacle in which to carry my festival leaflets and brochures: not a Louis Vuitton portefeuille, or even a Harvey Nicks carrier, but a Scotmid Co-op poly bag.

We asked Bill Burdett-Coutts, who has run the Assembly for nearly three decades, for his comments en passant on the demise of the spirit of the Fringe. "Utter bollocks," he said.

Looking for a longer answer, we went to see Arthur Smith, whose award-winning and unclassifiable event, Arturart, has been described thus: "It's as if Smith has distilled the spirit of the Fringe, bottled it, and released it into this sprawling space."

The sprawling space is an empty Georgian office block at 15 Queen Street which will be filled with serious nonsense which has to be seen to be appreciated. One illustration of a well-known cuddly bear and a piglet carries the caption: "This is how Pooh came to be added to the sex offenders' register." Barbie and Batman also feature.

Smith says: "You can't legislate for spirit. Dead? There are an awful lot of interesting people about."

Smith and the many famous stand-up comedians who contributed works to his exhibition are busy debunking the art establishment. Tracey Emin, one of the targets, is ensconced at the Gallery Of Modern Art. Her unmade bed and painting in knickers is a hot ticket, even if Elton John did not turn up.

But Ms Emin's maverick antics are pretty tame in Edinburgh terms. The Fringe preview involved an unusual lady artist from the Jim Rose circus.

According to my native guide, the woman "projected blue paint from her derriere on to canvas and then signed it. But not holding the pen in her hand. Let's just say she had very strong pelvic muscles. That's Edinburgh for you".

Even more shockingly, the Fringe preview featured Jim Bowen of TV programme Bullseye. The capital in August has the international, jazz, folk, film, comedy and book festivals. With Mr Bowen, it now has the Edinburgh International Darts Festival.

Equally alarming is the appearance of Roy Walker, comedian and presenter of Catchphrase, in Goodbye, Mr Chips at the Assembly. Sadly, it is not Mr Walker in a reprise of Robert Donat's classic rendition of pedagogic devotion, all done in 60 minutes. It is his comic memoirs.

As ever, there are different visions of how the festival is doing.

"It's a tourist no-show for empty Festival as ticket fiasco goes on", says a headline in The Scotsman. "Fringe to set box office records," reports the FT.

The truth is out there on the busy streets where the Edinburgh festival industry appears to be in its usual rude health and spirit. Just be careful where you go indoors. For those with a strong stomach there is Lunch With The Hamiltons (Neil and Christine).

And there is Elvis Hates Me! which is devastatingly honest in its publicity. It claims to be "a piece of theatre which leaves the audience stunned and almost unable to applaud". But we've all been there before at the festival.