Edinburgh Fringe Dispatch #2
Comedy reviews from Edinburgh Fringe 2025
Hello!
Wow. Helluva week! In a good way of course. I’ve been powering through so many amazing shows, and I’m only bordering on extremely exhausted. Here’s my next review round-up, including a few I have already shared on the website! I really don’t have anything to report that is not in comedy review format, so no personal life updates for you today (sorry to the people who are only here for that).
In related but not strictly LMAOnaise news, our FringeBEAT magazines are out and about, and our official launch party is on Tuesday August 12th (Assembly George Square, Underground, 11pm). All are welcome, and we have a truly iconic line-up for you:
Ayoade Bamgboye!
Lachlan Werner!
Kate Owens!
Dylan Adler!
Madeleine Rowe!
Plus, a special performance of our new FringeBEAT national anthem from Ben Alborough, and our resident DJ and centrefold Josh Glanc will be on the decks until late!
Put Tuesday in 11pm in your diary IMMEDIATELY.
!!!TICKETS ARE HERE - GET THEM!!!
And now, here’s my second review round-up of amazing comedy shows, in the order in which I saw them:
Comedy shows to see in Edinburgh right now!
Molly McGuinness: Slob
(Monkey Barrel Cabaret Voltaire, CAB VOL 2, 14:55)
Ayoade Bamgboye: Swings and Roundabouts
(Pleasance Courtyard, Bunker 1, 16:45)
Marjolein Robertson: Lein
(Pleasance Dome, Queen Dome, 20:20)
Toussaint Douglass: Accessible Pigeon Material
(Pleasance Courtyard, Bunker 1, 19:25)
My prior knowledge of Toussaint Douglass’ has come exclusively from the things he’s done with Piñata: we’re talking songs about the actual size of a hula hoop, and a story about his girlfriend baking for Black Lives Matter. He’s odd, and it’s this oddness that made me so excited to see his debut show. He knows he’s odd, by the way. He comes from a line of odd family members. We meet his flatmate and nan, who is the show’s anchor, his squirrel-hounding mother, and his dad, a comically presented but unnerving character. Obviously we also meet the pigeon, the significance of which is later revealed in a truly gorgeous way. Toussaint’s humour is as unique as he is and I guarantee you’ll love it. For all of the talk of pigeons and wanting to die alone, it’s a wonderfully open-hearted and emotional show.
David Elms Describes A Room
(Pleasance Courtyard, Baby Grand, 21:35)
David Elms Describes A Room does what it says on the tin (this is a joke specifically for only my audience, because on the day I see this show, there is an imaginary tin of paint hanging from the ceiling). The bulk of this superb show is spent building a room. Through carefully guided questions and David’s total acceptance of anything anyone says, together, he and the audience create every aspect of the space. It feels a like a spell, as you see the room begin to form before you. There’s a freezer full of ice creams, an alien outside the window, a wooden door so thick you’ll never be able to open it, a hammer in a display case on the wall above a plaque reading ‘this plaque would not be withstanding my love’. I can see all of it right there! It’s amazing! David’s an artist, his canvas is my brain, and this is the fully-realised power of improv.
Cabbage the Clown: Cinemadrome
(Underbelly George Square, Buttercup, 21:45)
Cabbage the Clown stands outside to usher the audience into the Cinemadrome. Cabbage does what the tannoy tells them to do: empty the bins, go to the checking desk, the service counter…back and forth, back and forth. All the while, Cabbage is dreaming of romance and art, making beautiful things in order to cope with the mundanity of the day. With the combination of drag, mind-bogglingly gorgeous costumes (all of which Cabbage has made), flawless make-up and audio-edit mastery, it’s joyously and triumphantly queer. It’s graceful in part too: a tidying-up sequence turns bin bags into a rhythmic gymnastic routine. Underscoring the whole affair is a palpable desperation for a full, free life, where they don’t have to expend all of their energy on mundane work and can instead make art and love and all the beautiful things.
The Mayor and His Daughter: A Genuine Appreciation of Comedy
(Assembly Roxy, Snug Bar, 16:10)
I always need to see some kind of vaguely threatening, demonic sketch comedy at the Fringe. Otherwise it’s not the Fringe! The Mayor and his Daughter live in a village that ‘sucks ass’: everyone has vanished, there are LinkedIn shops everywhere, the place is thronging with demons. But a saviour has appeared in a ditch: it’s a Russell Howard’s Good News Series 2 boxset. Comedy will save the town. Using lessons from Russell, the hour bears all the hallmarks of a classic comedy show: pig masks, unified chanting, an overhead projector (more of these!), and at one point during a dramatic costume change, the show is compered by a pint of milk on a table. I laughed so, so much.
Sam Nicoresti: Baby Doomer
(Pleasance Courtyard, Bunker 2, 17:40)
John Tothill: This Must Be Heaven
(Pleasance Courtyard, Beneath, 21:00)
I was bitterly disappointed to miss John Tothill’s show last year by one day due to the fact that he was in surgery having nearly died from an ‘obliterated’ appendix. He performed for days in agony before going to the hospital, and even returned to finish his run afterwards. Why? Because he loves it! And by ‘it’, he means all of it. He wants to indulge, and his comedy reflects that to the highest degree. It’s a massive steak and a bottle and a half of red wine; it’s a sumptuous, dripping, full-bodied show about gluttony – more specifically, in this age of overwhelming, earth-destroying greed, where has the desire to indulge gone? John’s distinctive voice and delivery has him holding the audience close. Whoever you are, he’ll make you feel special. This show is a treat and, John would agree, we should all be treating ourselves.
Alice Cockayne: Licensed. Professional. Trained. Qualified.
(Pleasance Courtyard, Bunker 2, 22:40)
Alice Cockayne is back. She became a favourite of mine a couple of Fringes ago, having gone on a whim on a friend’s recommendation. She is just as mesmerising as ever. The UK’s premiere wig-based comedian. I’m delighted to see that the number of wigs hasn’t decreased – if anything, there’s more wig than ever. Alice performs character comedy at its most committed and unhinged, but it’s also grounded in some kind of reality. This one looks at various women, from a sexy club-owner, to a mother who just wants to have more babies (we are all her little babies), to a cleaner with dreams: ‘Don’t worry, it’s just bleach,’ she says as she polishes a bald man’s head. It’s a cliché, but with Alice, you really never know what you’re going to get. It’s a delicious character comedy pick’n’mix.
Sam Lake: You’re Joking!? Not Another One!
(Monkey Barrel @ Tron, 13:35)
Just put Sam Lake in front of me and I’m laughing. What can I say, I love a laugh! Sam loves a laugh too, and it’s fantastic to watch someone so enjoying the thing that they have so much passion for. Absolutely iconic title aside, this is a show about coming out, being a queer comedian in different arenas, and having a laugh even when some people are determined not to. There are certain audience-members at comedy clubs in that category – though today, I saw none. He has the audience in the palm of his hand as he talks about everything from signing up for a dance class after watching Billy Elliot, to coming out advice from the famously straight Chris Martin from Coldplay. The whole show is an absolute delight that displays his innate talent and quick wit. The last section is so out of left field and brilliant, as Sam comes out as something completely unexpected. I think you have to be trying really, really hard not to find Sam funny. Maybe that’s why those guys are always puce.
Jain Edwards: She-Devil
(Underbelly Bristo Square, Daisy, 16:15)
Jain Edwards performs the entirety of her show with a sweet smile on her face, even as she tackles a heavy subject: the demonisation of women over the centuries. She unpacks her own treatment by some of the men who’ve come through her life as she unpacks a set of creepy Russian dolls. She has some unlikely heroes in the form of fellow Rhyl-born Ruth Ellis, the last woman to be hanged in the UK, serial killer Aileen Wuornos, and the witch from Hansel and Gretel, but as every sentence drips with a kind of supernatural sarcasm, she says it all with an air of blissful acceptance – men don’t do something like a witch trial on purpose! Jain has a magic and totally unique way with words and, with the story so heavily obscured in surreality, you don’t necessarily know what is real, but you can certainly tell what is true.
Will Owen: Looking Fab at Fifty
(Assembly Roxy, Roxyboxy, 20:30)
Will Owen starts the show with his own character assassination. He was recently profiled as a Jessie J fan, when all he wanted to do was request a Sugababes song for his mum on the radio. This whole sequence is such a joy, and its eventual pay-off is masterful. In Looking Fab at Fifty, Will explores loneliness, connection and getting to know himself, taking us from Grindr in his own flat to a brave first date trip to Kilkenny. He’s not so much self-deprecating as he is self-aware, and underlines every potential misadventure with a beautifully crafted joke. My show is made all the more delightful by the revelation that the vast majority of people in the room are gay. The rapport is rapporting and Will commands everything brilliantly. It becomes conspiratorial and chatty, and we’re all in it together. In the end we all really want the same thing: a fizzy water tap.
Relay
(Pleasance Courtyard, Beside, 15:35)
Leila Navabi's new show, Relay, hit me right in the chest. Armed with a keytar, Leila weaves a series of songs, storytelling and stand-up through the tale of their efforts to have a baby with their partner, from the eye-watering expense of the clinic, to a much cheaper DIY option using their friend’s sperm and a large syringe. The whole thing is accompanied by animations and artwork by Elliott Ditton, and Leila spends the show surrounded by a supporting cast of life-size illustrations of their partner and friends. There is a moment where hope seems to be lost and Leila is about to give up – they are sitting, dejected, and the lights dim, but you can still see these four figures standing resolute behind them. Relay is such a stunning demonstration of how many people's love goes into making a queer family, whatever that may look like. I shed a few happy tears, of course, and left with my heart full to burst. Simply beautiful.
Thanyia Moore: August
(Pleasance Courtyard, Upstairs, 5:40pm)
Thanyia Moore was due to make her debut at the Fringe in 2022 and was completely ready. She’s been doing comedy for a while – she’s one of the best MCs around, and I’d only ever seen her appear on mixed bill shows before, so I for one was awaiting it with anticipation. Then, with everything in place for success, things started to unravel. What follows is the story of her pregnancy, which turned out to be ectopic, and how she coped with not only this loss, but the loss of what she saw as her chance to triumph with her entry to the Fringe. She’s a get-on-with-things kind of person, and the show reflects that. Full of Thanyia’s wide smile and winning personality, the story she tells isn’t a sad one. There are, of course, moments, but she skillfully dances her way through them without diminishing their impact and still allowing us to laugh. The comedian’s ‘curse’ of seeing the material in every event has paid off – she’s taken the time before coming back, and returned a champion.
WHAT A WEEK, AM I RIGHT!?
Love you,
Zoë x