Edinburgh Fringe comedy review

The break-up show is a staple of stand-up – for what better way to deal with emotional upheaval than to laugh at it, while exposing your ex’s bad behaviour to strangers.

Britt Migs’ version is upbeat and punchy as well as cathartic. It has the American club-honed impetus of putting a gag on every other beat, taking no time for introspection nor going into too much scene-setting.

Yet we get to know he was unfaithful, and in rather a pathetic way, which leads into the first of many segments knocking the men in general for being dumb, toxic or feral – often all at the same time, as her post-divorce DMs bear out. If there’s any bitterness or anger, which she would have every right to feel, she hides it well, preferring to tease rather than attack.

Her marriage only lasted a year and a half, and she got laid off at the same time they split. But again there are no poor-me vibes, perhaps as she’s now happily settled in a new queer relationship. A happy ending which provides suitable cheer and empowerment on which to conclude.

Along the way she covers the fact that she’s a daughter of divorce herself, and tells of the post-split date in which she shaved herself smooth, head-to-toe, giving her the Dolphin Mode title. A more substantial meaning is suggested in the classy film that opens the show, depicting Migs on the New York subway listening to a relaxation tape urging her to dart through the choppy waters of life like the slippery aquatic mammal, as intrusive thoughts and anxieties interrupt her intended zen. 

What follows is robust stand-up on her life-changing theme, with the effervescent Migs eliciting a constant stream of laughs. Yet it doesn’t feel like a show, partly because of the superficiality of the narrative – we never drill too deep between the punchlines. But a bigger issue is the show’s length. 

Migs ran for barely 35 minutes, including that introductory short film. This is ‘extended set’ territory, not full special. There’s an unwritten contract in Fringe shows that comics do an hour, more or less, to show what they’re capable of and immerse the audience fully into their world. (Or maybe it’s not so unwritten, as her programme entry says the show’s an hour). Compared to the rhythms of all those solo shows, and how they strive to hold the attention for the long haul, this feels like a cop-out. 

Review date: 3 Aug 2025
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett
Reviewed at: Underbelly George Square