Nicky Woolf's Edinburgh Diary: Late-night comedy revues

Comedy at the Fringe is as much about the night-life as the day-life.

Edinburgh is as much about the night-life as the day-life, and it's not just for barflys; most comedians and comedy groups up at the fringe promote their shows by taking part in cabarets and night-time revues. It's a way to perform in front of new audiences and advertise a show, especially for young up-and-coming acts.

Dec Munro is the compère for revue shows Test Tube Comedy and Edinburgh Must-Sees. “At Test Tube we've had some acts that have done very well,” he says. “[Comedian] Tony Law did a set there that went down brilliantly, and literally half the crowd went to see his show after that. That also happened with Nick Sun, and with a beautiful theatre piece called Slow Clap. There is an element of promotion – but obviously it depends how well your material goes down.”

Spank, in a sweat-box of a basement cave at Underbelly, has gained a reputation for being the most raucous of all the late-night revues. There is a moment at the end when performers can make their pitch to the audience – as long as they are naked on the stage.

These late-night revues can be brutal for performers. In front of a drunken audience, it's possible to really strike a chord- if you bomb, you really bomb. “The audiences at some of the late-night places can be... testing,” says Munro. Because they're all wasted? “Yeah.”

Mark Cooper Jones is one quarter of sketch comedy act Wit Tank, regulars at Spank and other places; tonight, they are due to play another, Live at the Electric. “The experience is brilliant. Its lots of fun. It depends on the kind of act you are; we're quite a loud, shouty group. You have to shout over the top of the audience sometimes, but it's a laugh”

“It can get bad,” he continues. “I've seen people tank before, if they can't get on top of the crowd. You've got a bear pit in front of you, and if you have a weak beginning... it can be horrible.”

“Do you know the Scott Capurro story?” Munro asks. This tale has entered Edinburgh festival lore. Comedian Scott Capurro, having bombed on stage at the Gilded Balloon's Late and Live, was forced by a baying crowd to urinate on his own jumper and shoes, live on stage. In a surreal twist, Jimmy Carr, who was performing after him, had to mop it up before he could perform his act. “Arguably,” says Munro, “that's not the best way to promote your show...”

These are the kind of laughs comedians at the Fringe would die for. Photograph: Getty Images

Nicky Woolf is a writer for the Guardian based in the US. He tweets @NickyWoolf.

Ben Whishaw as Hamlet by Derry Moore, 2004 © Derry Moore
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The art of coming out: how the National Portrait Gallery depicts the big reveal

Portraits of gay celebrities, politicians and sports stars line the walls in a new exhibition called Speak Its Name!, marking 50 years of advances in gay rights.

I have a million questions for the doctor friend I’ve brought with me to the National Portrait Gallery. A million questions that, if I really think about it, boil down to: “Why were the Tudors so godforsakenly ugly?”

Inbreeding? Lead makeup? An all-peacock diet?

I don’t know why I assume she’ll know. She’s a neonatologist, not a historian. But I’m desperate for some of the science behind why these 500-year-old royals look, if these imposing paintings of them are anything to go by, like the sorts of creatures that – having spent millennia in pitch black caves – have evolved into off-white, scrotal blobs.

My friend talks about the importance of clean drinking water and the invention of hygiene. We move onto an extremely highbrow game I’ve invented, where – in rooms lined with paintings of bug-eyed, raw sausage-skinned men – we have to choose which one we’d bang. The fact we’re both gay women lends us a certain amount of objectivity, I think.


Alexander McQueen and Isabella Blow by David LaChapelle, 1996 © David LaChapelle Courtesy Fred Torres Collaborations

Our gayness, weirdly, is also the reason we’re at the gallery in the first place. We’re here to see the NPG’s Speak its Name! display; photographic portraits of a selection of out-and-proud celebrities, accompanied by inspirational quotes about coming out as gay or bi. The kind of thing irritating people share on Facebook as a substitute for having an opinion.

Managing to tear ourselves away from walls and walls of TILFs (Tudors I’d… you know the rest), we arrive at the recently more Angela Eagle-ish part of the gallery. Eagle, the second ever British MP to come out as lesbian, occupies a wall in the NPG, along with Will Young, Tom Daley, Jackie Kay, Ben Whishaw, Saffron Burrows and Alexander McQueen.

Speak its Name!, referring to what was described by Oscar Wilde’s lover Lord Alfred Douglas as “the love that dare not speak its name”, commemorates 50 years (in 2017) since the partial decriminalisation of male homosexuality in England and Wales.

“Exhibition” is maybe a grandiose term for a little queer wall in an old building full, for the most part, of paintings of probably bigoted straight white guys who are turning like skeletal rotisserie chickens in their graves at the thought of their portraits inhabiting the same space as known homosexual diver Tom Daley.


Tom Daley By Bettina von Zwehl, 2010 © Bettina von Zwehl

When you’re gay, or LBTQ, you make little pilgrimages to “exhibitions” like this. You probably don’t expect anything mind-blowing or world-changing, but you appreciate the effort. Unless you’re one of those “fuck The Establishment and literally everything to do with it” queers. In which case, fair. Don’t come to this exhibition. You’ll hate it. But you probably know that already.

But I think I like having Tudors and known homosexuals in the same hallowed space. Of course, Angela Eagle et al aren’t the NPG’s first queer inhabitants. Being non-hetero, you see, isn’t a modern invention. From David Hockney to Radclyffe Hall, the NPG’s collection is not entirely devoid of Gay. But sometimes context is important. Albeit one rather tiny wall dedicated to the bravery of coming out is – I hate to say it – sort of heart-warming.


Angela Eagle by Victoria Carew Hunt, 1998 © Victoria Carew Hunt / National Portrait Gallery, London

Plus, look at Eagle up there on the “yay for gay” wall. All smiley like that whole “running for Labour leader and getting called a treacherous dyke by zealots” thing never happened.

I can’t say I feel particularly inspired. The quotes are mostly the usual “coming out was scary”-type fare, which people like me have read, lived and continue to live almost every day. This is all quite mundane to queers, but you can pretty much guarantee that some straight visitors to the NPG will be scandalised by Speak its Name! And I guess that’s the whole point.

Eleanor Margolis is a freelance journalist, whose "Lez Miserable" column appears weekly on the New Statesman website.