Two Comics, Two Personas
In this post, I’m sharing two reviews of stand-up comics I saw early in the 2025 Edinburgh Festival Fringe. As you read, pay attention to how persona is managed in each performance. In stand-up, persona is everything- the audience needs to know who they’re dealing with, so they know how to laugh with them.
One pattern I noticed this year: many comics aren’t yet clear on their stage persona. Especially in the UK circuit, there’s a tendency to lean on clever observations without fully exploring the person making them. And the thing is, anyone can say something smart or funny. What makes a comic memorable is:
Why do I want to hear you say it?
Thanks for reading.
(Note: These reviews were originally published as part of my 2025 Edinburgh Fringe coverage for FringeReview. I’m archiving them here for readers who don’t follow that site.)
Rachel Morton-Young: Dutch Courage
TL;DR
British comedian Rachel Morton-Young has lived in the Netherlands for twenty-six years. In this hour of stand-up she spills the (weak) Dutch tea on culture clashes, parenting abroad, and life in the bike lane.
Review
In Dutch Courage, British comedian Rachel Morton-Young explores the oddities and overlaps of two national identities, British and Dutch, after living in the Netherlands for 26 years. What could easily become a niche expat set instead becomes something more: a funny, inviting, and culturally rich conversation about how people live, parent, and navigate differences.
Rachel's approach is immediately welcoming. She opens with gentle crowd work, asking who in the audience has a connection to the Netherlands. From there, she folds in their stories- not to make fun, but to deepen the humor. In the show I saw, two brothers shared anecdotes about their Dutch-American stepmother, and Rachel pulled those details into the fabric of her set with ease. It’s a skillful use of improvisation and listening that makes the audience feel like collaborators rather than purely spectators.
The core of the show is cross-cultural friction: how Dutch bluntness meets British politeness, why Sinterklaas is both delightful and baffling, and how certain behaviors only make sense when you've lived inside a culture long enough to stop noticing them. But the show also moves beyond surface-level comparisons. Rachel reflects on raising her children in the Netherlands, comparing their Dutch schooling- especially around topics like sex education- to her own British upbringing. These moments resonate well beyond the expat crowd. Parents in the audience will find much to relate to.
Rachel strikes a fine balance between specificity and clarity. Those who are familiar with Dutch culture will knowingly nod and laugh along; those who don’t will never feel left out. It’s a show designed for an international audience, and she’s careful to meet people where they are without sacrificing nuance or depth.
As actualized as the show is, there’s still room for growth. Rachel makes occasional reference to her own disorganization, especially compared to the hyper-efficient Dutch moms she encounters. Leaning more fully into this contrast could sharpen her persona onstage. Right now, she’s the witty British woman observing life abroad. But if she embraced a more fully-formed comedic character- say, the charmingly frazzled expat who can’t quite get it together- the show might land with even more punch and personality.
Another area for further development lies in the show’s title. Early on, Rachel explains what “Dutch courage” means- a term for the artificial bravery sparked by alcohol- but the concept isn’t fully woven through the hour. It would be satisfying to see her return to that idea more deliberately, using it as a thematic anchor: when does she rely on Dutch courage, and what does that say about her relationship to Dutch culture, to Britishness, or to herself? The cross-cultural terrain she’s exploring is rich and expansive- potentially a career’s worth of material. This particular piece would benefit from a clearer throughline tied to its title.
Overall, Dutch Courage is a strong hour that blends stand-up, storytelling, and crowd-driven moments into a coherent, warm-hearted piece. It would likely go over swimmingly well in the Netherlands, but it’s just as successful here- a thoughtful reminder that some of the best comedy is rooted in cultural curiosity and self-awareness.
This show is Recommended for its sharp observational humor, and skill in finding the fun and depths in being a fish out of water.
Leslie Gold: Tall Girl Energy
TL;DR
Leslie Gold has an outsized presence for her petite frame. This stand-up hour, with a feminist edge, examines society’s bewilderment with female confidence.
Review
New Jersey native-turned-Londoner Leslie Gold is back at the Fringe with an hour exploring her signature concept: Tall Girl Energy. It refers to the large presence she embodies despite standing just five feet tall. Throughout her life, people have remarked that she doesn’t seem short- a subtle way of expressing surprise that someone so small could have so much confidence. The show unpacks what is going on in that projection.
Gold uses Tall Girl Energy as a gateway into a larger feminist discussion around who we, as a society, expect- and don’t expect- to take up space. She connects this to unconscious biases that surface in everything from everyday encounters to large-scale safety measures and structural norms about who gets protected.
Gold is tapping into a vital cultural conversation, and she holds the floor using an approachable, conversational style that invites curiosity and consideration. She seamlessly blends jokes with storytelling, and infuses the hour with an observant, analytical edge.
Gold highlights how both her mother and grandmother, two other short women with tall girl energy, helped to shape both her stature and character. She talks about how her grandmother instilled in her that “words matter”, which becomes a refrain Gold smartly uses to direct our attention to important moments of the show. A bit more unpacking of what she thinks her grandmother meant by this, and how it shaped her worldview, could further anchor the theme. Gold then analyzes terms like “girl boss” and “short king” that reveal some of our unconscious biases around gender roles and expectations, and power. It’s Carlin-esque, adds extra punch, and more of this would further elevate the piece.
A great irony of the show, whether intentional or not, is that, if it were not for the subject matter, the audience may not clock how short Leslie Gold is- that’s how fully she embodies tall girl energy. It’s as if she’s creating a feminist archetype before your eyes.
If anything, the show’s one soft spot is that it feels slightly more like a concept-in-process than a fully excavated thesis. Gold sets the table beautifully, but one wonders what might happen if she took a few bigger risks- expanded her scope, dug further into her personal history, or pushed the linguistic analysis just a little sharper. The material is strong, but she has the presence and intellect to go even deeper.
This show is Recommended for its vision, cultural critique, and boldness in owning what it is.
