Going it Alone

In a remarkable crumbling of the old order, some of the Fringe's biggest sketch show successes are coming alone to this year's Fringe. Brian Donaldson catches up with performers blazing a new comedic trail for themselves

feature (edinburgh) | Read in About 6 minutes
Published 12 Aug 2011
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Just in case the cynics out there have jumped to all kinds of hasty conclusions, rest assured: any reports of the death of the Penny Dreadfuls have been greatly exaggerated. OK, on the face of it, the future might look bleak. Having been a solid staple of the Fringe for the best part of a decade, the trio decided that simply going back up again and selling out every single night in front of their adoring fans might well lead to creative stagnation. But lo and behold, the three members, David Reed, Humphrey Ker and Thom Tuck, are all doing solo shows this month.

“We all agreed together around a table that, yeah, we’ll not go to Edinburgh this year,” recalls Reed in a bold attempt to cut off the conspiracy theorists at the pass. “Then suddenly we all had this huge gap in our diaries and we all thought, ‘Oh god, life’s pretty empty’.

"So, seemingly independently, we all just thought ‘You know, I quite fancy just trying this on my own. I’ve never done a solo show, that might be fun’. It took about three weeks from us deciding that we weren’t going and us all saying, ‘Yeah, I’m going’ and the other two saying, ‘Yeah, me too’.”

The Penny Dreadfuls' scenario is highly unusual, but it does reflect this year's intriguing trend of current and former sketch troupe members going it alone. Since their 2006 Fringe debut, Pappy’s (and their original incarnation as Pappy’s Fun Club) have steadily gathered a cult following on a par with the Dreadfuls, but this year only Matthew Crosby (the small, bespectacled, beardy one) has made the trip Fringewards. Having performed standup for as long as he’s been a Pappy man, Crosby is used to going it alone on stage, but a whole month in Edinburgh is quite another matter.

“When we all lived together for a month, it really should have been a disaster,” reckons Crosby. “If you had to go home every night and the people in your office were also in your house, you’d go insane. But fortunately we just get on very well. When you go home to a house of comics who weren’t in the show you’ve just been in, they want a post-mortem. So, there’s a good chance I may become even more self-reflective and analytical than I am already.”

In 2008, Matthew Crosby was joined on the Comedy Bucket lineup by the then-similarly hirsute Joe Wilkinson, another long-standing standup who has become better known as one half of a sketch duo – in his case Two Episodes of MASH. His co-MASHer Diane Morgan has other commitments this August, so Wilkinson decided to take the plunge.

“Being on my own isn’t unusual for me. It’s always been parallel to the sketch thing. But when you’re backstage and about to go on with someone else, you feel a little less exposed. And if 40 people turn their noses up at you, it’s good to have someone else there to just go and have a drink with.”

Alongside Ed Weeks, Tom Bell had been in Tommy And The Weeks for several years before he went out on his own, and has now done three solo runs on the Free Fringe. Now making his debut mono-appearance on the not-free Fringe, Bell is also acutely aware of the stark contrasts.

“It is a different muscle you’re using, comically. Ed and I did an hour-long gig recently and I’d forgotten how much fun it was; you do feel lonely up on stage on your own. There are a few bits that I feel would be improved with someone else being there and other bits just work better solo.” But Bell acknowledges that the blow of a bad gig is immediately softened when you have someone there to share it with – or blame it on.

“It’s a bit like going on holiday, either with friends or on your own. You can do what you want but there are times when you want to just have a beer with somebody and see the sights. When you have a bad show and then have to pack away the set on your own, that is a bit grim. But being solo, you’re never truly alone. You always have a producer to moan to or your flyering team to beat.”

Catriona Knox made her solo debut at the Free Fringe last year, having done several Edinburghs (she’s lost count exactly how many) with the Boom Jennies. Like last year, she is doing a set of her own making as well as sharing stage time with her gang.

“When you’re doing your own show, you have to be the driving force behind it and throw your energies into that, but I’m very pleased to be doing stuff with the other girls because it does keep you sane. Comedians are pretty neurotic anyway, so when you’re on your own and left with those neuroses, you need something to keep it all light-hearted.”

For Knox, it’s not having a shoulder to cry on after a rough gig that counts, but being with someone right in the moment when the world is collapsing around her.

“When you are dying and the audience is just not coming with me, you can give other people on stage that look and buoy one another along. When you’re solo, all you have is an audience that you can’t bounce off. You can say that maybe I wasn’t on form on that day and give yourself a kick up the arse, but with character comedy there’s not much room for flexibility. You have to just trust that the script you’ve slaved over is going to cut it and that it’s a case of selling it better on the day.”

For those who are able to sell a show to audiences and critics alike, there is a good chance that some competition judges might take a similarly positive view. It’s easy to imagine your sketch show buddies patting your virtual back with congratulatory texts following a comedy award nomination – but deep down, would they really be feeling quite so generous? Especially in the case of the three Dreadfuls, all in town together: what if one (or worse, two) of them were to be nominated for the big prizes?

David Reed laughs the notion off, before musing: “If this was a TV drama or some kind of reality show then two of us would get nominated, thus hurting the feelings of the third one.

"And then,” he continues, clearly warming to the theme, “either one of us would win and the other would be bottom of the list, or neither would win and they’d then make up having fallen out. But in reality, would it be wrong to say that I don’t really care about [awards]? It would be lovely to get one, but I’m not chasing it. That would be like investing all your savings in lottery tickets. I think it’s a bit foolish.”