One month since my Edinburgh Fringe run wrapped up and I have just sent an invoice in for the amount heading my way from ticket sales.
Despite the festival being more expensive than ever, I made a higher profit than any previous Fringe. It will be hard not to return again, as the amount I can make from an Edinburgh show is a far higher return on investment than any other financial options available to me. Crucially, it is also much more fun.
I am very pleased to report that the HTWAPQ magic is still there, even in the absence of the whiteboards and a music round that turns into a mass sing-along. There were one or two flat days, but most of the shows were a blast.
On the accommodation front, I stayed in halls in Musselburgh for the month. It’s probably the best option available now that others are unaffordable. I paid about double for accommodation from when I was last up in 2019, which also includes the monthly train pass that I used every day.
Nevertheless, there were the expected gripes of sharing with kitchen with some people not doing their washing up and leaving clumps of food in the sink. Still, I have lived in worse conditions. Having an en suite bathroom was worth it in the trade-off for a sometimes grotty kitchen. I will probably do the same again when I am next up.
Edinburgh Fringe was exhausting, but definitely worth it. There is no question that it is now far harder to put on a show there. However, I am pleased to report that it is still possible to get full rooms most days and come back with a tidy profit – that even gives me enough to put on a show next year. Will I return in 2025? Yes, I would expect so.
Now it’s back to the other 11 months of the year that I find way more challenging. The number of gigs I do and the audience at them lowers, and some gigs are barely winnable. Case in point, I was performing at a music festival that all takes place in one pub last week. Comedy had a separate room, with other rooms around the pub having bands playing, including outside.
However, due to the torrential rain, some of the musicians could no longer perform outside and had to move into the comedy room. The comedy show was thus split into two sections, which would be separated by a musician set. If you think this is setting up for a disaster, you are correct. I was opening the first section and the audience, if you could call it, were lining the sides of the room, with a massive chasm in the middle where there was not even one chair. My ten-minute set really just turned into asking the people who were actually listening about music. When solid gold material gets no response, you know the room isn’t winnable. The second comedy section was pulled as the first one went so badly.
I had a nasty feeling that it would end up being this way. And if I’m being honest, part of me gets a sadistic sort of kick out in putting myself through such an apathy fest. Let’s call it a survival mechanism. That said, I have done far worse gigs.
Regardless, after such a successful Edinburgh, it definitely keeps me grounded. It’s what I always describe as the comedy equivalent to the end of The Snowman when all you’re left with is a puddle of your comedy dreams. Then as a reminder that it did actually happen, you pull a scarf out of your pocket – that is, in this case, a venue lanyard. But unlike the end of The Snowman, I got to take home a tenner and three non-alcoholic beers afterwards. It might not be revisited every Christmas though.