Review of five female acts showcased en route to the Edinburgh Fringe

London’s 99 Club has a track record of picking winners when it comes to its bursary for female and non-binary acts making their Edinburgh Fringe debuts.

They’ve run this scheme three times previously, handing out £500 prizes to offset the crippling costs of performing at the festival to Catherine Bohart, Sarah Keyworth, Janine Harouni, Helen Bauer, Sikisa and last year’s best newcomer Lara Ricote – all now doing great things on the circuit and beyond.

This year’s showcase of shortlisted acts kicked off with Alexandra Haddow, instantly proving herself a reassuringly professional presence and a safe pair of hands. By briefly revisiting compere Juliet Meyer’s material, she immediately helped stitch the night together as a whole rather than a parade of discrete acts.

Her slick performance comes at the expensive distinctiveness, however, and much of the material on the likes of going for a smear test or discussing national traits (doesn’t the French accent make everything sexy?) feeling a little generic. The sense that she hasn’t defined a clear persona for herself is emphasised with her closing gag which has a shock-value edge that doesn’t fit with the rest of her style.

More fruitful, and personal, material came from the Micky Flanagan route of talking about being a working-class girl made good – with her version given a twist thanks to her innate love of ‘a bit of rough’, as epitomised by her current boyfriend with his circle of ‘crime adjacent’ mates. However talk about being ‘older’ because she’s in her early 30s will be a shock to anyone looking at those years in the rear-view mirror…

She’s watchable and TV-friendly, but would definitely benefit from having a stronger, more consistent comedy angle.

Next up, oddball character act Lorna Rose Treen fully committed to her alter ego of a Brownie, uniform and all. ‘Observational comedy as a nine-year-old child,’ she called it, although her bonkers set is far from the universally shared experience that description might suggest.

Over her ten-minute set she spoke about all the absurd ways she earned her badges – and about those cruelly denied her – every one showing a strong flair and originality, delivered with conviction. 

Nor does she let the character restrain her from being in the moment - joyfully chasing a man down the aisle as he tried to sneak out for a pee. Treen – Chortle’s best newcomer award-winner for 2023 – is a one-of-a-kind, committed to quirkiness, who’s undoubtedly going places. She must count herself unlucky not to have scored one of the two winning slots tonight.

Leila Navabi has a big personality, identifying herself as an ‘imp’, who uses her ethnicity for mischief – and there’s certainly a devilment to her larger-than-life stage presence. However she coasts along on that big personality and her set eventually becomes exposed by her lack of focus on punchlines or compelling storytelling to back it up.

The daughter of a white Catholic mum and Asian Muslim dad, she speaks about being one of only two brown kids in her Welsh school. But it’s rather roundabout and the anecdotes don’t have the big payoff required – validating her description of herself as someone who ‘jabbered away’ at school. 

You wait ages for a mixed-race lesbian Welsh comedian, then two come along at once – even if Priya Hall is a relatively recent convert to same-sex relationships, and a much lower-energy prospect than Navabi.

She, too, is a sharer of anecdotes, but has a command of phrasing and pacing to make the story of her and her partner’s quest for a baby thoroughly absorbing, skilfully drawing out every absurdity in the IVF process. Yes, there are a lot jokes about sperm and how to get it, but her laid-back, confident delivery makes them strangely classy. It feels as if she could keep talking for Wales – and keep the audience hanging on her every world while doing so.

That netted one her one of the top prizes, with the other going to the force of nature that is Louise Atkinson. She combines the wry Northern wit of Victoria Wood – even if this Hull girl is from the other side of the Pennines – with a rambunctious command of the stage.

With a fast-talking, vigorous gossipy style she’s full of solutions for problems you never knew you had: What is the female equivalent for having balls? How do you sign off an email when you don’t wish them best regards after all? 

There’s some more personal material, awash with body positivity, about what it’s like to be a sturdier woman, too, proving she owns her image in the same way she owns the stage. 

Afterwards, someone told me they’d seen some of her punchlines as memes on social media. That's obviously a concern, as no comic wants to be considered unoriginal – especially one who's got enough verve and wit of her own.

Review date: 13 Jun 2023
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett
Reviewed at: Arboretum