Edinburgh Fringe comedy review

Such seems Robin Grainger's need to avoid disapproval that he initially describes his recent break-up as amicable, despite leaving him homeless with legal wrangles and a protracted battle to be reunited with his beloved dog.

Although one can attribute a certain amount of narrative framing to this, People Pleaser is otherwise straightforwardly vulnerable, with the comic making manifest the typical stand-up's aggravated need to be liked.

Grainger has form in plundering his personal anguish to ingratiate, famously boosting his profile with the tale of performing a show to a single audience member, attracting considerable media coverage but not necessarily cementing his status as a good act. Other recent hours have processed an intense period of grief in which he lost three loved ones over the course of three months, as well as his body issues.

The latter was meant to be cheerfully covered in his planned show about hitting the gym and getting jacked. Yet life has a way of hijacking Fringe hours and forcing you to confront your deepest issues. That Grainger is currently performing with a shock of pink hair in a salmon suit suggests that there's still plenty about his appearance he has yet to resolve.

Certainly, his physical insecurities were exacerbated by the experience he had as a drama student and new stand-up, when he auditioned for an independent film in the role of Creature.

With nothing in the way of lines and left to improvise, Grainger's grotesque self-abasement at the barked bequest of the unfeeling director stoked his class resentment, played to his nerdy tendency to characterise himself as the wretched Gollum from Lord of The Rings or Dobby from Harry Potter, and justifies his avowed pride in his act-outs, the contorted, gurning comic truly conveying you to his humiliating ordeal in that genteel Morningside house.

Yet over and above all that, it was a perfect encapsulation of the comic's destructive need to put others before himself. Tied to his proto-vocation by his bullied child's need to accept detention as the price for trying to make his schoolmates laugh, it continues into his recent counselling sessions, the fruits of which are laid out pretty starkly here as stand-up.

Indeed, so forceful is Grainger's appearance of full disclosure that I found myself bleakly wondering if he subconsciously engineered an emasculating incident in a previous job, just to facilitate a strong, extended observational routine he shares about the disappointments of microwaveable meals.

Of course, he could have made the anecdote up. But his stories generally carry the bitter sting of authenticity. And it's doubtful whether there's any catharsis in sharing them with strangers if they don't contain at least a kernel of truth.

Surprisingly then, given the stated subject matter of the hour, Grainger doesn't pander much. At the top, he delivers some generally approving thoughts about his adopted home of Edinburgh, affectionate gags, and routinely runs down the ungodly screech of the bagpipes.

But he doesn't flinch from making this a difficult listen at times, never jettisoning the jokes but seldom prioritising them over his core, storytelling mission. You will absolutely hanker for greater levity in moments. But the overall effect is dramatically potent, taking you with him. Concluding somewhat open-endedly, yet optimistic on balance, it's to be hoped for his sake that his next hour can be a lighter one.

Review date: 15 Aug 2025
Reviewed by: Jay Richardson
Reviewed at: Stand 3 and 4