Edinburgh Fringe comedy review

It’s hard to believe this is Toussaint Douglass’s Fringe debut. He’s already  got a decent chunk of TV credits to his name and has been acclaimed on the circuit for aeons –  having been nominated for best newcomer at the Chortle awards five years ago.

Nor does Accessible Pigeon Material feel like the work of a newcomer, bursting with confidence, personality and originality – as well cracking jokes from start to finish. 

Pigeons genuinely are his passion, with one whizzing around the venue on a  remote-controlled car as the comic drops a few bits of trivia about the much-maligned breed. What first feels like whimsy soon emerges as obsession as Douglass hails the pigeon  as a ‘proper working class bird’ and lobbies for it to become a national emblem of Britain, a metaphor for us as grubby survivors when all around is hostile.

If he feels the audience pulling away, he berates us: ‘What were you expecting? This is on you if you don’t like it.’ We also get told off when the puns he’s put so much effort into don’t get enough.

It’s tongue-in-cheek, of course. It’s always tongue-in-cheek with Douglass. Him being on the attack with a ‘what do you people want?’ attitude adds a spirited energy to the show, while cementing his low-status, battling against a crowd that doesn’t appreciate his genius… though of course we absolutely do. Living in insalubrious Lewisham further plays into the downtrodden image, and he’s far from flattering about his South London neighbourhood.

He’s a self-confessed introverted nerd who has an ironically absurd way of extrapolating real observations into distinctive points of view. That’s how he comes to dream of dying alone, or come up with a better name than ‘partner’ to describe his long-term girlfriend. Even on the familiar ‘vegans are weak’ trope,  Douglass can find fresh angles.

All this delightful nonsense points to neurodiversity without hammering home the point. And beneath it all lies a story about what made Douglass the way he is. A massive influence is his Dominican nan, part of the self-reliant Windrush generation, who brought a fire-and-brimstone approach to childrearing.

Then there’s his father, an emotionally distant man portrayed by a puppet boxer and interrogated with the aid of an audience member, nudging the prepared musings on masculinity in slightly unpredictable directions. The comic’s inherited some reluctance to talk about his feelings – yet the point of all these quirky comedy devices is to address them, albeit obliquely

That’s an impressive feat. His big conclusion with this show – nominated for best newcomer at the Edinburgh Comedy Awards –  is simply that his family has made him a bit odd, but he’s made peace with that. But really there’s so much more going on than that. That Accessible Pigeon Material is such an impressive first show is a real coo. 

Review date: 24 Aug 2025
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett
Reviewed at: Pleasance Courtyard