Luke Rollason gives comedians tips for a rewarding festival

My favourite description of the Fringe is from Sam Nicoresti, who called it ‘the abattoir of dreams’.

We arrive in Edinburgh, piggies in tow, and leave a month later considerably lighter for their absence. We might bring home some bacon in return, but its definitely not an equal trade. I don’t know why, year on year, we are surprised by this. We knew all along that pigs aren’t just bacon.

This year, I’ve been thinking a lot about aspiration, wishes, dreams and delusion. I wish I was a stand-up who could combine these observations into an intelligent and intelligible thesis on the nature of hope. Unfortunately, I was cursed to be a clown, so instead I’ve accidentally made a fairytale show out of toilet roll. Believe me, this was not my intention.

Some context. Between this year and my last Fringe run, it could be said that my dreams had come true. I starred in two series of a TV show [Disney+’s Extraordinary] that I loved, which I loved working on, and which paid me a hunk of money that I funnelled into an ill-advised, non-tax deductible and poorly named Memorial Bursary for alternative comedians. (Because that was my dream – turning diversity in comedy into a vanity project.)

There’s a reason that fairytales end the moment we get what we want. Because once our wish comes true, we’ll want something else. And if that first wish coming true also fed our ego, we’ll believe we deserve that something else. And it will hurt to not get it, no matter how ugly that is. 

Fairytales end with happily ever after because the alternative is an endless cycle of want. That’s just life. We know that already.

I don’t think I’ve ever met a comedian who was entirely satisfied – certainly not at the Edinburgh Fringe. If things are going badly, you wish things were going well. If things are going well, then that serves as evidence that things should be going better.

I don’t mean to say all comedians are unhappy. (Everyone knows that already.) But I do think there is such a thing as contentment. And I think the most content comedians I’ve met are the ones who know that wishing makes them happier than the wish coming true.

We choose to believe that pigs can be just bacon. We choose an impossible dream, because that’s the best kind of dream. Climbing a mountain is the fun part. The summit is never as good as the way up, because the view from the top of a mountain isn’t as good as the view with the mountain in it.

There’s another analogy for the Fringe that I think about all the time. You’re in a jungle, hacking away merrily with a machete, wiping sweat from your brow etc. And if you were honest with yourself, you’re hacking because you believe you’re about to reach a clearing. A beautiful oasis of knee-high (at an absolute maximum) grass where you can lay down your machete and bask in the sun of your achievements. 

So: you’re hacking away, until someone comes and tells you what a good job you’re doing. And you ask them – where’s the clearing? Where’s the reward? And they tell you – this is it. It’s just jungle. 

The reward is you get to keep going. You must be thrilled – you must really love that machete to have hacked away this far! Look at all the jungle you’ve cleared behind you! You could have stopped any time!

So, I’m back in Edinburgh. Because it turns out performing my stupid fucking accidental fairytale show for a month is my dream come true.

• Luke Rollason, Luke Rollason, Let Down Your Hair is at Pleasance Dome at 7.10pm

Published: 2 Aug 2024