Edinburgh Fringe comedy review

Given that she’s challenged traditional definitions of femininity and spoken frankly about discovering her queerness relatively late in life, you could accurately pigeonhole Jessica Fostekew as a progressive kind of comedian.

But quite whether people fit so neatly into the tribes ascribed to them is a key theme of Iconic Breath, a show named after her son’s mispronunciation of Godzilla’s superpower ‘atomic breath’.

To Fostekew’s concern – and despite her most enlightened efforts not to impose gender roles on the youngster – he’s showing definite ‘trad masc’ tendencies, such as a love of football.

That’s how the comedian comes to be yelling at under-9s matches, suddenly understanding men’s intense passion for it, now she’s got skin in the game.

And finding a passion is another of Fostekew’s quests, having been inspired by her late nan Irene’s devotion to dolphin-watching, maintained well into her tenth decade. 

It was a pastime that required great stoicism in the absence of activity, a patience the comic isn’t sure she shares. She thinks she takes more after her dad Keith, who’s ‘kind but angry’.

Fostekew keeps a lid on any rage here, but those inherited traits have evolved into a forceful delivery, pushing each point home hard. She’s adept at steadily pumping up the attitude in a routine, then puncturing it with a punchline.

She reserves her fury for the touchlines, where she forms alliances with fellow mums – different tribes of women she’d never otherwise countenance.

In real life, she challenges those who disagree with her with sarcasm and badinage – the same sort of traits that define her stand-up – rather than hatred. And vice-versa. What better interactions than those online, where even the slight difference with someone you otherwise share values with can result in ostracisation.

Fostekew is therefore working on her tolerance, although many situations – such as trying to get on a ridiculously crowded Tube carriage  in London – vex her. It’s probably good she hasn’t entirely become zen, as howls of exasperation at the world remain an important part of her comedy arsenal.

Infuriating female-fronted American podcasts with empowering ‘we are mighty’ messages are one such irritant here – this is definitely not her tribe. 

Likes include the satisfying scrunch of a collapsible cycle helmet, weightlifting – as per her breakthrough show Hench – and the TV show Gladiators, which she honours by performing the show in a 1990s-era T-shirt. 

Other routines cover stand-up staples such as neurodiversity and giving a stool sample, plus a more uniquely Fostekew yarn about clever butt-dialing – stories that get her closer to the universal, tribe-transcending ‘airport comedy’ she says she wants to achieve.

Not that there’s anything unrelatable in her engaging anecdotes and everyday frustrations,  skilfully shared.

Review date: 23 Aug 2025
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett
Reviewed at: Monkey Barrel Comedy Club