Isabelle Farah offers a field guide to the Fringe cliques

Ah, the foot is on the pedal for the Edinburgh Fringe bandwagon, with its merry troupe of funny people aboard! But this family is a dysfunctional one: the bickering has started, the tears are ready to roll, and all those taking part are ready to lock horns, exchange terse podcast words, fight for stars, and engage in public social media tantrums and private breakdowns.

For the uninitiated, I've written a guide, so you know what to expect on the street and IRL from each comedy sibling.

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Online Starlet Goes Live (language: instagram)

A relatively new tribe, these petits bébés of the comedy circuit cut their teeth making reels and content and, in a move that surprises everyone except the most astute businessperson, are branching into live comedy to complement their online work and make some industry contacts.

They’re loud, they’re perfectly made up, they’ve got an iPhone 14 Pro Max held up in their left hand and their ring light in the other.

Clown (language: mime)

The clowns and clown-adjacent may become a little more mainstream after one of their number was recently crowned the King of Britain. Traditionally, all clowns sport a similar haircut to Viggo Venn and their show titles will leave you wondering if you’re buying a ticket to a show or a cleaning product. 

You’ll spot them on the train to Waverley carrying 47 props and an Android phone.

Traditional Stand Up, South (language: one liners)

These doctors of the art of comedy pride themselves on their ‘jokes’: no nonsense, straight-down-the-line, no running on the poolside JOKES. 

Ask them if they have props or cues and they will refer you to episode 4, 15, 47, and 82 of their podcast, where they remind you exactly what stand-up is and isn’t and it requires a shacket, a crumpled T-shirt, a very specific brand of sneakers, a mic, and one hour of plain and simple JOKES.

Traditional Stand Up, North (language: General Northern)

This tribe hail from the People’s Comedy Republic of the North West. They refuse to go south, detest London, but will come north to Scotland, whence many of their ancestors lived. 

Some of their clan have defected south and so their relations with the southerners remain cordial. They move in groups between Nicolson Street and Bristo Square. They’ve driven up in their cars (‘how else do you get to gigs?’) and are all staying in one three-bed flat.

Sketch Star As Themselves (language: unfinished sentences)

After their partner did a Ginger Spice on them, this act must now find their space in the Edinburgh Fringe bubble on their own. 

There’s no one to bounce off, no one to hide behind. Does the Edinburgh Fringe dance routine work solo? Are you funny in mono, not stereo? 

These are all questions the newly solo act must work through on their own. You’ll find them in George Square fielding questions about their ex-partner and looking forlorn.

The Antipodean Assembly (language: the word ‘mate’ repeated in different intonations)

In 1760, Captain Cook reached the Eastern Shore of Australia. 263 years later, comedians of all tribes come to Britain to engage in ritual torture of their kind at the Fringe.

They convene in the Assembly Club Bar from 10pm until 6am and then sleep all day, to mimic their home timezone.

The Musical Act (language: Sondheim)

A full hour of songs after a full night of partying is no mean feat so you’ll find this act drinking a honey and herbal tea with their guitar on their back. If you ask them how they are they’ll respond in song form while whipping out a flyer for a passer-by with a charming smile.

Washington’s Children (language: American Standard)

They come over to show us how white their teeth are and talk about the weather in California. They’re slick, they’re groomed, they’re ready…for everything except the damp.  You’ll find them asking a Facebook group where the nearest tumble dryer is, wearing a University of Edinburgh jumper they’ve had to buy at Pleasance Dome.

Once the shine wears off, they start to devolve into the British Pokemon they would have been if their ancestors hadn’t moved to America in 1868.

The Elders (language: nostalgia)

These comedians have been coming to the Fringe since 1992 and so have made friends with some locals and stay at their abodes in something formerly known as a ‘spare’ ‘room’. They don’t engage in the games, the frolics, the competitions. 

They don’t do reels or TikTok, though they might still make an appearance on Twitter. You’ll see the- oh. No you won’t. They don’t socialise with the noobs.

The Oxbridge Comedy Graduate Showcasers (language: The Queen’s English)

They’re 22 years old with an English degree from a university no one’s heard of. LOL, obviously they went to one of those ones, can’t you tell from their dry humour and insouciance?! They’re doing their third hour but this is their first one out of nappies, presumably.

Theatre Kids (language: overconfidence)

‘I’m not a failed actress, I just like doing both,’ they’ll insist, while relying entirely on an hour of silly voices and stories instead of actually writing any jokes. You’ll find them at Summerhall watching serious plays and pretending to be involved with some real actors.

• Isabelle Farah is an actress/comedian of the Theatre Kids tribe and will be at Hootenannies Apex with a work in progress show at 4.50pm from August 23 to 27, and in Assembly Club bar at all other times.

Published: 1 Aug 2023