Edinburgh Fringe comedy review

There she was, just metres away, the monster identified by no less than the President Of The United States as one of the most dangerous ‘threats to humanity’ this planet faces. What blood-curdling horrors would this monster unleash against the 300 innocents trapped in a room with her?

A sentimental story about her love for her fifth adopted child – the non-binary, autistic, prodigy Clay – her adoptive Irish homeland, and the mother she lost too soon.

The thin-skinned ‘Mango Mussolini’ in the White House, who has had an inexplicably deep-seated, long-running hatred of the comedian that culminated in last month’s crazy claims – does make an appearance, too, but it’s a long time coming.

Instead, O’Donnell begins in proper misery-memoir territory as she recalls in heart-wrenching detail the day she found out, at the age of ten, that her mother had died. It seems an eternity before she breaks the tension of her somber delivery to reassure us ‘there will be jokes’.

True, though they take a second place to a sentimental examination of motherhood; how she found contentment in her progressive new home that eluded her in toxic America and – most fundamentally – the joy she has experienced in bringing up Clay, who she adopted from birth.

Her super-smart child - who very much knows their own mind, even picking their own name at the age of nine – takes up the lion’s share of the show. O’Donnell, now 63, has much to tell about what she has learned from their changing relationship, even if some of it was a challenge at first. Still is, maybe. On stage, the comic still uses the wrong pronoun for Clay more than the right one – despite the youngster’s constant reminders. Then again, O’Donnell says ‘here’ when she means ‘Ireland’, too.

Otherwise, she’s very careful about using the right word at every point in this evocative monologue that’s so tightly written that it feels like it’s soon to be a book, and with none of stand-up’s usual illusion that this is a conversation not a script.

There are some amusing anecdotes, usually at O’Donnell’s expense, such as mistaking her pharmacist’s Irish friendliness for flirtation, or finding herself at the wrong end of a lollipop lady’s sarcastic tongue. Plus her acting out of other characters, such as her therapist or her New York adoption lawyer, bring the script to life.

But none of the comic elements are allowed to undermine the earnestness of her heartwarming stories, and the morals of acceptance and community she is intent on conveying. You leave the theatre with the hope that empathy and kindness will win. No wonder Trump hates it.

Review date: 5 Aug 2025
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett
Reviewed at: Gilded Balloon Patter House