Full marks for ambition for Kate Smurthwaite, whose verbose title explains exactly what stupidly demanding challenge she set herself this festival. 

It is that she ‘writes and performs a brand-new full-length stand-up show every single day for the entire Edinburgh Fringe based on audience suggestions from the previous day (not Tuesdays)’. Rules include no AI and no repeat of old material.

The results of this gruelling experiment have included a one-woman version of Saturday Night Live, a vegetarian’s guide to football hooliganism and an hour about Gaza. 

And tonight we get March Of The Gay Penguins, about same-sex behaviour in the animal kingdom, a show which also turns out to incorporate Smurthwaite’s work as a spokesperson for Abortion Rights UK. In advocating for that cause, she’s often been told that terminations are against god’s will or unnatural – the same accusation conservatives level at LGBTQ people. But, as this hour conclusively proves, heterosexual monogamy is not the only option in the natural world. And as both a queer ally and enthusiastic participant in sex parties, that’s a cause Smurthwaite is happy to promote.

Probably the best praise is that the show doesn’t at all feel like it’s been written in under 24 hours. There are plenty of comedians with worse offerings, despite having a full 11 months – sometimes even longer – to get their hour in order. 

There are things that have made this particular show easier to create, with first-hand anecdotes and quirky animal facts culled from the internet lessening the need to write so many jokes. However nothing feels like excess padding, and the hour is not without punchlines. Plus, there’s no denying that other iterations over the month will have demanded a much greater gag rate.

Smurthwaite is a fantastic communicator, conveying her points with authority while maintaining a naturalistic, open delivery style. And if the demands of this challenge have taken their toll, it doesn’t show in a lively performance even at the end of the Fringe. 

March Of The Gay Penguins is also robustly structured, with each segment looping back into the central theme. Well, almost every segment. A section about Maxwell’s equations describing electric and magnetic fields felt a bit out of place – but the revelation that it was all part of the challenge proved a rewarding moment in itself.

The scale of the project almost defies the reductive system of awarding a star rating for how good an individual show seems (but I’ve done it anyway, just for convention’s sake) – but for embracing the true creative, challenge-yourself spirit of the Fringe, Smurthwaite has few peers.