Lolly Adefope: ‘In Edinburgh I kissed a boy in the afternoon – by 4am we both had new partners’

On a first trip to the fringe, she was desperate for comedy to seep into her and discovered a summer camp that became a second home

Despite having lived in London for most of my life – and being a huge fan of dancing and drinking in the street – I’ve never been to Notting Hill carnival. Instead, for the past seven years, I’ve spent August in Edinburgh, either performing or working at the fringe. Admittedly, last year was my first “fallow” year – a time for the farm (my body) to recover – but I still visited for 10 days at the end, unable to accept the fear of missing out of unjust reviews and posters of comedians scratching their heads.

The first year I visited, I lived in a flat with 20 other students. At some point during the month, a couple of people moved out, so I got a cupboard all to myself. It was heavenly. I had always wanted to do comedy, but didn’t know where to start – all I knew was that Edinburgh was where it happened. So I applied for a job giving out flyers for an improv group, and after an hour of not giving out any, I politely resigned.

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Political correctness isn’t killing comedy; you are | Rebecca Shaw

The old guard is being left behind in a world that no longer finds bigotry funny. It’s about time

Comedy has been an important part of my life for as long as I can remember. My parents, working long and brutal hours in menial jobs in the struggle to raise four children, had every right to be sad, worried and angry people. Instead, to get through the hard times, they turned to humour. The funniest jokes in our house were rewarded; banter and good-natured teasing were encouraged. Although not formally educated, my parents’ natural intelligence shone through in their quick wit.

Moving through my teenage years, comedy became even more vital. There is almost nothing worse you can be in high school than a fat girl, and everyone moves quickly to make sure you know it. I still very much endured my share of bullying and teasing, but I was able to make friends fast, build defences and deflect a lot of abuse by using humour. Comedy helped me survive.

Related: Why don’t we have a sense a humour? Maybe it’s about the jokes | Alex McKinnon

This is not about being overly sensitive, it is simply about growing and adapting to what the audience will accept.

Haha I am sorry pic.twitter.com/Jspknl4CGl

Related: Dave Chappelle, Ricky Gervais and comedy’s ‘ironic bigotry’ problem

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Tom Stade: ‘The funniest number? Infinity, it tickles my brain’

The Canadian standup on what makes him laugh the mostThe late Foster Brooks played the greatest drunk ever and the pilot sketch with Dean Martin is a work of art. It should be studied in universities. Continue reading…

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Trevor Noah review – what if Harry and Meghan had ‘a real black wedding’?

O2 Arena, London
The royal couple get a cheerful ribbing from the Daily Show host in a set that’s a delight – even to huffy republicans

What a gift to Trevor Noah that his one-off UK date coincided with Prince Harry and Meghan Markle’s wedding. The Daily Show host dedicates a full 10 minutes to the event at the start of his set, and it’s high quality material given its presumably hasty composition. But then the nuptials of a mixed-race American and a member of the British royal family is meat and drink to Noah, a comic who majors in race and social mores across borders and who, as a South African, is no slouch on the imperial self-regard of Britain’s ruling class.

His wedding material certainly delights the locals – even those of us who’ve spent the day in a republican huff. He delivers a great line about the event’s supposed diversity (“Let me tell you something: a black cellist cancels itself out”), before imagining how it would have unfolded had it really been “a black wedding”. Yes, these jokes trade in broad stereotypes, and midway through Noah’s show I began to weary of his “white people do this, black people do that” shtick. But, for now, his cheerful ribbing of the claims being made for this establishment beanfeast were a pleasure to submit to.

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Bridget Christie review – gleeful in trashing the label that defined her

Brighton Dome
Award-winning standup serves up ruthless self-mockery in a show that is playful and pugnacious in equal measure

Lying, says Bridget Christie, has been tainted by association with Trump, Putin and the Brexit campaign. So she’s giving it up: now it’s the truth and nothing but from Christie. Hence: “I’ve been pretending to be a feminist for six years!” Her Edinburgh Comedy award-winning show, her book, radio series and Netflix special: all just a sham, she tells us now, like a dam bursting. “It’s an act! I don’t give a shit! I just wanted to be famous!”

What Now? is Christie’s first new show since Because You Demanded It, her fantastic, hastily assembled response to the Brexit vote in 2016. That set in turn followed several shows which combined clownish comedy and campaigning feminist zeal to thrilling effect. All of which makes What Now? unusual for Christie in having no specific agenda beyond making us laugh. Happy to report that it succeeds lavishly in that aim, as Christie goons around, sending up herself, her parenting, David Davis and the impoverished state of UK politics.

Related: Bridget Christie: ‘I am a white, able-bodied, heterosexual woman. Do I have a right to be angry? Yes!’

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Shappi Khorsandi review – convivial and caustic set from I’m a Celebrity star

Soho theatre, London
In her new show Mistress and Misfit the standup delivers droll tales, gasp-inducing skits and a Georgian history lesson

Mistress and Misfit, Shappi Khorsandi’s latest set, has been built around Admiral Nelson’s squeeze, Emma Hamilton. Or at least, that’s what it says on the tin. Certainly, there’s a portrait of Lady Hamilton on stage throughout the show, but for most of the 75 minutes it’s Khorsandi who hogs the limelight. We’re left with another diverting hour of Shappi chat – about mothering, reality TV, her poet dad – grafted more or less crudely on to a whistle-stop biography of the blacksmith’s daughter turned love of a national hero.

It’s never entirely clear why Khorsandi is telling that story in particular, beyond her obvious identification with Emma’s up-by-the-bootstraps life story. The comic makes a compelling case for Lady H as a strikingly modern figure, trapped in and stifled by life as a pawn and plaything of wealthy men. But Khorsandi’s parallels between her life and that of her Georgian-era subject are a bit forced, and Hamilton’s presence in the show – sitting alongside unrelated material about attending children’s parties and turning down literary prizes – can feel arbitrary.

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Shappi Khorsandi review – convivial and caustic set from I’m a Celebrity star

Soho theatre, London
In her new show Mistress and Misfit the standup delivers droll tales, gasp-inducing skits and a Georgian history lesson

Mistress and Misfit, Shappi Khorsandi’s latest set, has been built around Admiral Nelson’s squeeze, Emma Hamilton. Or at least, that’s what it says on the tin. Certainly, there’s a portrait of Lady Hamilton on stage throughout the show, but for most of the 75 minutes it’s Khorsandi who hogs the limelight. We’re left with another diverting hour of Shappi chat – about mothering, reality TV, her poet dad – grafted more or less crudely on to a whistle-stop biography of the blacksmith’s daughter turned love of a national hero.

It’s never entirely clear why Khorsandi is telling that story in particular, beyond her obvious identification with Emma’s up-by-the-bootstraps life story. The comic makes a compelling case for Lady H as a strikingly modern figure, trapped in and stifled by life as a pawn and plaything of wealthy men. But Khorsandi’s parallels between her life and that of her Georgian-era subject are a bit forced, and Hamilton’s presence in the show – sitting alongside unrelated material about attending children’s parties and turning down literary prizes – can feel arbitrary.

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Loyiso Gola: ‘The funniest word? Nincompoop makes me laugh every time’

The South African standup and late-night satirical news anchor on what makes him laugh the mostIt has to be Ross Noble. I saw him at the Cape Town comedy festival in 2002. I was in high school. His improvising was so good it made me never want to try. …

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Loyiso Gola: ‘The funniest word? Nincompoop makes me laugh every time’

The South African standup and late-night satirical news anchor on what makes him laugh the mostIt has to be Ross Noble. I saw him at the Cape Town comedy festival in 2002. I was in high school. His improvising was so good it made me never want to try. …

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Sarah Kendall review – stargazing raconteur riffs on fate and fortune

Soho theatre, London
In her show One-Seventeen, the Australian comedian grapples with big ideas but these absorbing stories don’t fully connect

In a recent trilogy of shows, Sarah Kendall told long-form tales of her teenage years in Newcastle, Australia – tales that pirouetted on the line that separates truth from fiction (and indeed storytelling from standup). Her latest, One-Seventeen, deals as much with grownup as with adolescent Sarah, and tells not one long story but several interconnected short ones. Their connectedness is the point, at least according to Kendall’s closing tale, which invokes wonder at how lives (and stories) interrelate and overlap. But I’m not sure the show quite bears that philosophic weight: it’s absorbing from one moment to the next, but adds up to no more than the sum of its parts.

It’s introduced as “a show about luck”, and begins in 10-year-old Kendall’s garden, where her family gathers at night to watch Halley’s comet race across the sky. Stargazing is a recurring theme in a show that opposes two viewpoints on chance and mischance. To Kendall’s mum, almost everything can be construed as a bad sign. But her dad is phlegmatic: bad luck is often good luck in disguise.

Related: Sarah Kendall: the worst heckle I ever received – and what I did with it

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