Edinburgh Fringe comedy review

Liam Tulley’s a no-frills comedian, dressed in black jeans and T-shirt and launching straight into his routine about his reluctance to get up in the morning with not even a perfunctory ‘how’s it going?’ by way of preamble.

His  downbeat delivery brings little in the way of performance pizzazz, but fits his low-status stance as a man constantly rejected in the dating market and beset by one health problem after another.

The list of ailments starts with acid reflux and a low-level anxiety that causes him to grind his teeth, then ramps up to a bladder tumour, and a serious inflammation of the prostate. Medical woes are a ubiquitous topic at the Fringe, with many a comic sharing  embarrassing details of intimate treatments and tests, but Tulley’s version is well-written, defined by a deadpan resignation to being poked and prodded.

The comedian – one of the inaugural batch of Chortle Hotshots debuting at this year’s Fringe – has the hangdog air of a man who’s accepted that life is a series of trials he’s destined to lose, yet grinds on regardless. Of course, he’s been denied so many pleasures of food and drink on doctors’ orders, why should there be any glimmer of joy in his world?

Joining the dating apps was certain to involve a fresh of  humiliations, but he was callously rejected by the software itself before he could even get on. And when he asked a human for a second opinion as to what he was doing wrong, the feedback was even more brutal.

Bleakness about his own situation forms part of a wider gallows sense of humour, developed during a ten-year career as a care assistant, much of it involving end-of-life services. He finds the cloud to every silver lining.

Yet an hour can be a long time in comedy and the relentless misery and dry monotone eventually becomes a bit wearisome, but the wretched persona and the droll writing remain strong.

Review date: 7 Aug 2025
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett
Reviewed at: Just the Tonic at The Mash House