This year there are a record number of shows going to the Edinburgh Fringe, including mine, yet all I hear in green rooms is that with the rise of social media we don’t need Edinburgh anymore; so, if we don’t need it why are we still going?

There isn’t a working-class comedian alive that won’t tell you Edinburgh is an overpriced, bare-knuckle, fist fight to the death in a game that’s rigged towards the privileged, with just enough outsiders making it through that you believe you and your thoughtfully crafted 50 minutes about your neurodivergent cavapoo might lift you out of oblivion.

 I say 50 as this is currently a new way to make judges in the coveted prize category of ‘newcomer’ believe you are in fact a ‘newcomer’. You can do this just shy of an hour show year on year until your hour is so polished, you can see your face in it and then humbly present yourself to the awards panel as a freshly born comedian, just out of nappies. 

If I sound bitter, I am. I played by the rules and wasn’t smart enough to spot the cheat. Given the sacrifices comics make, why shouldn’t they bob and weave a bit?

Social media in comparison, feels so calm. You can do it in bed, for god’s sake! That is a comedian’s natural environment. 

Above all, it feels democratic. Instead of the mighty TV gatekeepers, real people get to decide who is funny. You can gain followers, go on tour, fill a room, a theatre, a stadium or just get 100 likes on Instagram. Anyone can do it.

 Turns out that isn’t the whole truth. The socials are not the panacea we all hoped they would be. If you want to get big on the socials, you also need cash. Unless you are both a technical wizard and a comic genius you need to know the ways of the slippery algorithm and that takes time and money. 

I ended up investing in a social media company to put one clip up per week to grow my online presence and it has worked well but if I want more visibility and more reach I need to invest more and that’s money I don’t have.

 So here we are again. Different arena, same issues for working-class comedians. In fact, it may have created a double bind for comics; now there is an expectation from industry that you create content, and it’s quantity of followers, not quality of clips that’s important. Don’t be surprised when you get to Edinburgh and hit the jackpot and you are sat in front of an interested industry professional and they get nervous because of your lack of followers on the socials and pick a TikTok star over you, who we all know can’t do the job but can fill a room.

The social media company I work who understand the dark arts say weird things like lighting matters, so if you are in a dingy room in a pub compared to being on fully lit stage you are on the back foot, making it more difficult for newbies. The algorithm loves light. It also has no sense of humour and does not understand jokes, so don’t take it personally. 

What you can take personally is the comments section. I was speaking to my pal the other day about what a horrible place the socials are for women, this is born out by facts; according to a poll carried out by Ipsos MORI, one in five women receive significant online abuse. 

My dissenters tend to be mainly men who are really very angry that I am alive and as funny as ‘bleeding arse grapes’, a particular favourite which I might put on a poster. If you are a woman or from any diverse background the socials are not a fun place to be, at least in a dark Edinburgh basement people keep their thoughts mainly to themselves.

I have a pet theory for the overwhelming number of applicants for this year’s Fringe. Last year was quiet and we saw some excellent working-class comics winning or being nominated for the big shiny things. Which for us financially challenged folk who have grown up playing the odds was too tempting a prospect not to sell the family silver, forgo a family holiday and beg their boss for a month of unpaid leave.

 A comedian put it succinctly to me: ‘Socials give you an audience, but tv gives you credibility.’   And it’s the one thing the comics still secretly covet. Yes, a tour would be nice but Live At The Apollo and a chance to meet Greg Davies in the flesh and make a comedic arse out of myself that is the dream. Then like Pinocchio I’d be a ‘real’ comedian, not a virtual comedian shouting swear words at grandmas on Facebook reels as they eat their breakfast. 

I was talking to my pal again about this same topic and she said another important thing: Why shouldn’t we want to be there, we deserve to be there, we are working hard on the circuit all year and the industry isn’t coming out to watch. She is right, we risk being leap-frogged by someone with deep pockets, it doesn’t feel fair.

 I have spoken to a lot of comics who justify their decision to go by saying: ‘I am going to get good, become a better comic’, ‘I don’t care about the awards, I’m working up a show to go on tour’ (my own personal delusion) and the one that makes me laugh the most: ‘I’m just going to enjoy it’.  

Get back to me on Day 16, when you are crying and asking me to ring your mum. But I get it, we are making big sacrifices to go, so we feel we have to justify what seems like an insane decision. 

So here we go again and again, Edinburgh will never lose its allure, because where there is still telly there will still be Edinburgh and working-class comics will keep playing the lottery, despite the fact they can only afford one ticket and their more privileged counterparts are clutching 500 in their manicured fists, because at the end of the day ‘It could be you!’ and now they have added a second game the socials…

Good luck everyone. 

• Nina Gilligan’s stand-up show Goldfish is at the Just The Tonic Nucleus at 8.40pm.