The Edinburgh Cringe Festival

I’ve always loved the Edinburgh Festival. I was nineteen the first time I went - having just been cast in a student production of Macbeth - and it felt like I’d stumbled into a performer’s paradise. Every nook and cranny of the city had been transformed into a stage, alive with theatrical productions, improv and stand-up comedy. It was a beautiful celebration of art and life that made me want to quit my studies and become a full-time performer. I was doing a drama degree, so it probably wasn’t the worst idea in the world.

After that first experience, I returned to the Festival many times as both an actor and a stand-up comedian. And it was around 2016 that I started to notice subtle, yet significant, changes. Maybe it was down to Brexit (Trump hadn’t been elected yet) but something had shifted. Comedy was becoming increasingly political. The dismal stench of identity politics had begun to cling not just to the performances, but to the reviewers and the industry itself.

2016 was a big year for me at the Festival: I was doing a show at the Pleasance Courtyard. For the uninitiated, the Pleasance is the most prestigious venue at the whole festival - a place performers spend years working toward. Landing a slot there was considered a huge stamp of approval. So thrilled doesn’t even begin to cover how proud I was. I couldn’t wait to get my “Pleasance Pass”, see the best shows for free, and grow as a performer and writer. These acts were at the top of their game - who better to learn from?

Before I launch into a full diatribe, I should say that there were still some fantastic acts performing at the Festival. But they were very much in the minority. What dominated, instead, were performances with identity at their core, where audiences were bludgeoned with trite political messaging. Now I don’t mind political shows - in fact, political satire is one of my favourite forms of comedy. What I (and many others) can’t stand is being lectured and preached at. No craft, no nuance, just heavy-handed tirades on the evils of whiteness and the shittiness of men.

These shows weren’t just poorly written and lazily constructed, but abysmally performed too. And the worst part? They still received glowing reviews in industry publications. Not because they were funny, interesting, bold or engaging, but because they were morally correct. Their creators had the right opinions. The reviews would often focus on the performers’ immutable characteristics - the least important things about a human being. Being female, gay, or from an ethnic minority was practically a five-star review in itself. But being straight, white and male was a liability. Add working class to the mix, and you were practically radioactive.

I don’t remember 2016 for Brexit or Trump. I remember it as the year the comedy industry quietly strangled meritocracy with a rainbow-coloured lanyard. It wasn’t just the Edinburgh Festival; the smug, joyless crap that now passes for TV comedy underwent the same process. It’s no surprise that viewer numbers continue to plummet year after year.