Edinburgh Fringe comedy review

Amy Annette says her sophomore Fringe show is  about ‘social labels’ but there’s really only one that applies: fun aunt.

She knows that’s the vibe she gives off: gregarious, enthusiastic, communicative, gossipy and slightly naughty, ensuring she’s convivial company over an hour that whips by. 

Countless topics zoom in and out of her sights, creating an eclectic set list that glides effortlessly from interior design TikTok to Labubus; from very specific, non-sexual role play to the ‘one for sorrow’ magpie rhyme; and from Mr Blobby to Shakespearean sonnets about wanking. There are no obvious segues, the witty conversation just flows out of her like a tap.

Annette has a distinctive way of adding little comic flourishes to words and phrases which adds a waggish sing-song quality to the chat  – though her exaggerated French pronunciation of Michael Bublé’s surname is uncannily close to how Michael McIntyre says it. 

Talking of sing-song, she unsubtly engineers a few moments to show off her impressive vocal talents, and why would she not? If you’ve got it, flaunt it, and it’s clear her aim is to ensure everyone has a good time, and this sure helps.

There’s a little bit about body image as a self-confessed user of weight-loss jab Mounjaro, and the gender imbalance, though she’s canny enough to play both sides. But you wouldn’t mistake her for an issues-driven comic, and with the personal details she scatters around, she never plunges too deeply.

Before she was a fun aunt, Annette was known as an ‘old soul’, thanks to a preternatural childhood obsession with Agatha Christie and the wartime doo-wop of the Andrews Sisters. Even today she contrasts the fearless personalities of 1940s celebrities like Marlene Dietrich with the over-sensitive stars of today. Thirty-six is surely too young an age to be calling out the next generation for being snowflakes, but she does it with cheek.

Indeed, you can almost imagine Annette as a gossipy 1940s society lady, sharing slightly scandalous  indiscretions and arch bon mots as she perches at an art-deco cocktail bar, waving her elegant cigarette holder around.

In 2025, she has to make do with a shipping container in what’s normally a sports centre car park, but she’s still the life and soul of the party, the epitome of the cool aunt.

Review date: 15 Aug 2025
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett
Reviewed at: Pleasance Dome