Mark Vigeant on the best and worst of the Fringe

As US comedian Mark Vigeant prepares to return to the Edinburgh Fringe, he talks about what he can't get enough of at the festival; recalls his most embarrassing Edinburgh experience and complains about the worst thing about the Fringe (apart from the cost of accommodation, obviously).

Fringe Binge

Is it basic to say I go to Fringe to get my mind blown? Like ‘absolutely shred to bits, go home and put the pieces back together like a glass mosaic that’s even more beautiful now’ blown? 

Sorry, but the best part of this festival is that intoxicating combination of inspiration and jealousy that initially crushes my spirit because I realise that my work isn’t as revolutionary as I thought, but ultimately spurs me to make better art.

I imagine most of you reading this are thinking, ‘Duh, this isn’t even an interesting point to make,’ but every year I meet performers who shockingly don’t prioritise seeing other shows!! 

Sure, it’s true that the amount of effort it takes to put on a show every day is a lot, especially when you have to flyer, do sets on other shows, and stay out late-drinking. But there are artists at the Top of Their Game out here doing things that will make your jaw drop and it’s a crime to miss out on them. A crime, I tell you!!!

Fringe Cringe

At my first festival, in 2023, I was in a venue that was riiiiight next to the entrance to the castle, which seemed like an amazing idea when I booked it – foot traffic, yes! And then very quickly I realised: none of these people want anything to do with Fringe at all, no!!! 

Performing a weird vulnerable American theatrical comedy show and looking for audience members on the Royal Mile reminds me of Coleridge’s Rime of the Ancient Mariner; ‘Water, water, everywhere / Nor any drop to drink.’

The whole run was pretty embarrassing, but the low point for me had to be when this old woman sat right in the front row. About halfway through the show, she shouted out, ‘When’s it going to get funny?’ I laughed and told her, ‘if you don’t like it now, it’s not going to get any better.’I invited her to leave with no judgment. But she refused, saying she was only there because she wanted somewhere to sit while she waited for the Tattoo.

I then had to do the rest of my show with her in the front row.

And at the emotional climax of the performance? She stood up in front of me and walked out.

Fringe Whinge

It’s the last week of Fringe. You’ve made it past the unavoidable dip in energy that hits midway through the month. You’ve somehow tricked your body into postponing a cold for one more week. You’re all adrenaline, Irn-Bru, and late-night crepes. And you’ve promised your friend all month you’d see their show. And you still haven’t seen it.

They’ve seen your show. They’ve told you how much they loved it. They posted about it to their Instagram story. You have to see their show. You have to do it!

Even if the show is at 11am.

Even if the premise sounds really stupid.

Even if, frankly, they seem like an entitled influencer who is only getting big crowds because they post a lot of skin on social media.

You made a promise, and if you break that promise, they’ll never speak to you again.

So you get up early, and rush out the door so you can have enough time to get a coffee beforehand, but the rush makes you forget your Assembly pass so you have to pay for a ticket, and you don’t have enough time to pee beforehand so you hold it in. And it’s sold out even though they don’t flyer and you still haven’t sold out a single show of your run despite having multiple 5-star reviews and flyering for hours a day.

And the show is awful. Like absolutely garbage, stupid, lazy, bullshit. Terrible.

And you realise they still won’t ever speak to you again, because you were friends of convenience and also you don’t respect them so why did it all matter so much to you in the first place?

That’s the worst part of Fringe.

• Mark Vigeant: Out There os on at Assembly Roxy at 5.20pm from August 5.

Published: 23 Jul 2026