Tom Short on the best and worst of Edinburgh

As comedian Tom Short returns 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).

Edinburgh Binge

My favourite thing about the Edinburgh Fringe is that it temporarily creates a world where making weird art is completely normal.

For 11 months of the year, if you tell someone you've spent six months building a show about a haunted pub, artificial intelligence, failure, success or whatever strange obsession currently occupies your brain, you'll often get a slightly puzzled look. At the Fringe, nobody bats an eyelid. In fact, you'll meet someone doing something even stranger.

I've always loved the accidental conversations that happen there. You can end up talking to an award-winning comic, a first-time performer, a theatre-maker from Australia and somebody dressed as a Victorian ghost within the space of half an hour. Everyone is exhausted, slightly delirious and trying to solve impossible logistical problems.

As somebody from a working-class background, I also love that the Fringe can be one of the few places where people genuinely create their own opportunities. Some of the most exciting performers I've met weren't people who had huge budgets or industry backing. They were people who simply had an idea they couldn't stop thinking about and found a way to make it happen.

This year I'm looking forward to spending more time discovering shows. It's very easy to spend the entire month focusing on your own flyer pile and ticket sales. The years I've enjoyed most are the years where I've allowed myself to get distracted by something unexpected. 

Some of my favourite Fringe memories come from walking into a show knowing absolutely nothing about it and leaving wondering why everyone in the country isn't talking about it.

Edinburgh Cringe

My most embarrassing Fringe moment happened during one of my earliest years at the festival.

Like many performers, I was obsessed with getting people into the room. Every audience member felt like a life-or-death situation. I spotted someone carrying a flyer for my show and assumed they were coming.

Naturally, I followed them for far longer than any socially acceptable human being should.

Not in a threatening way. More in a desperate, hopeful, underfed-performer way.

The problem was they weren't coming to my show at all. They were simply using the flyer to shield themselves from the rain.

I spent several minutes enthusiastically telling them what time the show started, what reviewers had said, why they'd love it and where the venue was.

Eventually they looked at the flyer, looked at me and said, ‘Oh. I thought this was a menu.’

I don't think I've ever recovered.

Edinburgh Whinge

Apart from accommodation, my biggest Fringe complaint is the growing pressure to constantly be visible.

When I first started going to the Fringe, success often felt connected to what happened in the room. You wrote a good show, performed it well and hoped people talked about it afterwards.

Now it can sometimes feel like you're expected to simultaneously be a performer, content creator, marketer, graphic designer, editor, podcaster, influencer and social media manager.

I've probably contributed to that culture myself. This year my show is literally called I Get ChatGPT To Write My Edinburgh Show, so I'm hardly hiding from technology.

But I do worry that comedians are increasingly judged on everything surrounding the show rather than the show itself.

The Fringe is at its best when it's a place for experimentation. Some of the most brilliant performers I've ever seen would be terrible influencers. Some of the best shows I've ever watched would struggle to fit into a fifteen-second vertical video.

The danger is that we start rewarding people for being good at marketing comedy rather than being good at comedy.

That said, I'll almost certainly spend August posting online, handing out flyers and desperately trying to convince strangers to come and watch me. So perhaps my real whinge is that I've become part of the problem.

• Tom Short: I Get ChatGPT To Write My Edinburgh Show is on at Hoots @ Nicolson Square at 22:15 from August 7

Published: 3 Aug 2026