Fringe comedy reviews: Frankie McNair | Amy Matthews | Rob Kemp | Sid Singh | Cecily Hitchcock | Rob Duncan

Frankie McNair: Huge Ass Mindset ★ ★ ★ ★

Gilded Balloon Teviot (Venue 14) until 30 August

Despite this being Frankie McNair's Fringe debut she's an established act in her native Australia. And she unquestionably requires all the perspective afforded by time and therapy – as well as a honed anecdotal ability – to pull off this bravura reclaiming of her destiny.

With a trigger warning and care for her crowd, the perky, mischievous comic relates at the top how she's a survivor of child sexual abuse and incest at the hands of her father, circumstances that have seen her diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder. The statistics she shares of juvenile abuse in the UK are horrific, from Australia even more so.

But with a personality further shaped by neurodiversity, addiction issues and queer sexuality, McNair isn't allowing victimhood to define her or the audience to feel inhibited, threatening us with switching off the room's fan on a hot day if we don't get sufficiently onboard. Reeling of a list of incest one-liners, she immunises the mood against the worst. And she relates how, rather than feeling small, she's contrived a ‘huge ass mindset’ – reassurance from an imaginary enlarged booty that she now applies to any social situation.

McNair longs to be a Love Island contestant, all upfront confidence and little reflection. But she's doomed to be her quirkier self. And she's a natural fool, performing a daft film noir spoof with silly props that boosts the levity of the show. Her story takes a twist, though, when she relates the biggest her ass has ever had to be. It’s a surreal, scary episode and, although she emerged defiant, having ultimately reclaimed her self, it wasn't without cost.

McNair doesn't smooth over the trauma and difficulties exacerbated. Still, she's standing tall, irrepressibly funny and anchored by her huge ass in 2026. Jay Richardson

Enjoying The Scotsman's coverage of the Edinburgh festivals? For just £2 a month you can get unlimited access to scotsman.com plus 2-for-1 Fringe tickets. For details visit www.scotsman.com/subscriptions

Amy Matthews: Definitions of Toast ★ ★ ★ ★

O’Neill’s (The Tron) at Monkey Barrel (Venue 51) until 31 August

Amy Matthews rarely gets angry, though God knows she’s had reason to be furious. But she has a condition called alexithymia, which means she has a delayed reaction to certain emotions, and it can take a while for her to identify and process her feelings.

It sounds like the theme for a novel or a movie, but it’s reality for Matthews, a “recovering people pleaser” who’s been waking up to the fact that she has not been treated well by past boyfriends.

Now revelling in the comfort and luxury of her first ever relationship with a woman, she’s been able to see that what was previously on offer was the bare minimum. Mere crumbs. Real, mutually supportive love is possible, her needs can not only be met but also anticipated, and she can reflect upon how she tolerated what went before.

A couple of men in her past have had issues with addiction, and it seems a combination of factors led to her putting their needs first. Despite the deployment of some hard-hitting Lily Allen-flavoured anger, Matthews has a distinctly literary approach to her topic. She finds ample symbolism in the definitions of toast (whether that’s saying “cheers” or declaring something utterly finished), and offers some fascinating insight into her own form of autism.

This might sound heavy, but it’s a lively hour. The writing is beautiful and the jokes abundant, and the pacing of it all cleverly allows us time to consider our own emotional response. Matthews, a charismatic presence, also offers an assured performance.

Sometimes the most interesting and satisfying comedy is created when the artist has had enough time to process and interrogate what happened – when the wound has healed but the scar can still be felt. This could not be more true in the case of Definitions of Toast, which is an exciting and intriguing show. Ashley Davies

Rob Kemp: Beatlesjuice ★ ★ ★ ★

Hoot 2 at Hoots @ The Apex (Venue 108) until 29 August

I’ve been waiting so long to see this show. After Rob Kemp’s triumphant rock/horror mash up The Elvis Dead, in 2017, he promised to create a show which combined the 1988 Tim Burton movie Beetlejuice with the music of The Beatles. And here it is. Finally!

Wearing a black and white stripey suit and horror make up, Kemp blasts his way through a bunch of rewritten Beatles hits, with projected extracts from the Tim Burton movie. There are skeletons poised around the venue. Miscellaneous members of the audience are asked to wield giant worms, to wrap themselves in tape and to wear inflatable prawn hats made of rubber gloves.

Kemp is in great voice, although he affects a croaky howl for the demonic Beetlejuice character. He also does a turn as Winona Rider, peeking coyly from beneath a jet-black wig. The audience is invited to sing along with Kemp’s rewritten Beatles lyrics projected on the screen karaoke-style. Kemp keeps checking that the younger members of the audience are keeping up. “Are you sure you’ve seen the film?” he asks a row of teenagers in the front row.

It has to be said there are some technical issues. Projections fail, props fall apart and the bright white lighting in this air-conditioned hotel conference room is completely unconducive to horror. It’s such a shame he couldn’t bag himself one of the many haunted cellars in the heart of town.

But Kemp blazes through and his energy and charisma carry us along. I was so absorbed in his performance I forgot I was sitting next to a plastic skeleton. He ends with a neat hallucinogenic optical illusion and a rousing interactive rendition of Twist and Shout. Next year, he promises, he’s going to return as The Thing… White Duke. Claire Smith

Sid Singh: Love Bombing ★ ★ ★

Counting House (Venue 170) until 30 August

Sid Singh is, he tells us, burned out. Given that he is, on a regular basis, taking on the American Administrations (from Obama through to Trump … but mainly Trump) in his role as a Human Rights Lawyer, working with the Center – it is American – for Gender and Refugee Studies (CGRS), and has been for many years, it is not surprising. So he relocated to Barcelona, which is where the story at the heart of this show takes place.

He is an excellent storyteller, and weaves a saga of how he came to date his stalker in and out of grittier sections about the fear that the law (in the US) just isn't on the side of the good guys any more. We get the tale of Miss AB, one of his clients, who has never given up fighting, always being stopped and questioned trying to get back into the US no matter what. We also get the much-discussed problem of the Male Loneliness Epidemic.

We are living in a time when Trump is threatening to deport 1.8 million people over the next year, Sid tells us. Which is why he still donates half of everything he makes here at the Fringe to the CGRS and their work. Go. Learn. Donate. Kate Copstick

READ MORE: Scotsman Fringe First awards: our first winners of 2026 revealed

Cecily Hitchcock: Family Recipe ★ ★ ★

Pleasance Courtyard (Venue 33) until 30 August

More than most comedians, you can draw a direct line from Cecily Hitchcock's eccentric upbringing to her becoming a stand-up. Though raised in the unappealing new town of Cambourne, near Cambridge, where the local celebrity was a psychotic swan, gossip was rife and the birth rate was sky high, hers was a childhood where her gently oddball, progressive parents gave their youngest offspring free rein to discover herself.

Thus she was encouraged in her much-too-early aspirations to become a glamour model and concerted efforts to be Fat Bastard, the grotesquely overweight Scottish villain from the Austin Powers franchise. If anything defined their family, it was the inexplicable meal that they routinely concocted, and which now inspires the composed-but-quietly-cracked Hitchcock to weird role-play and act-outs.

Her charismatic stage presence suggests poshness. And she slips easily into portraying salmon as gap yah trustafarians and her mother as archly well-to-do, puffing on a cigarette while confessing that the latter is as much a fiction as the former.

And with her almost certainly neurodivergent father, she shares a touchingly strange bond over the New Labour project, fantasising a romantic alternative history for Tony Blair and Gordon Brown. Jay Richardson

Rob Duncan: Toilet ★ ★ ★

Carbon (Venue 180) until 30 August

This has been, Rob tells us at the end of the hour, “an experiment”. I have no coherently helpful description of what it is, but raw, personal fury wrapped in surreal comedy, songs and toilet roll doesn't seem to do it justice. I have never seen anyone juggling this much genuine anger and despair in a comedy show.

It is an extraordinary seesaw we ride together, hindered by multiple technical catastrophies and a pair of trousers that won't stay up, and punctuated by people walking out. I don't think anyone in the room had any idea what was happening there. But that is thrilling.

And for a proven, award winning clown/comic to risk what Rob risks here is extraordinary. His mother has dementia and he has been left to care for her. His brother is not helping at all. And he is losing his hair. There is a lot of talk about blockages – in a show called toilet I am sure you will get the metaphors which flow fast and thick. The end of the hour is heartbreaking. I have no idea what you might experience here, but let Rob experiment on you – you will both benefit. Kate Copstick

The Scotsman’s arts newsletter is now sent twice a week - subscribe today

Enjoying the Arts & Culture journalism on scotsman.com? Make it easier to find by selecting us as a preferred Google source

Want the latest Scottish headlines sent directly to your phone? Sign up to our new WhatsApp channel here