Edinburgh Fringe comedy review

Often comedians might make a joke about how they’ve gathered us all before them to talk about Jesus. In Sam Williams’s case, that’s literally true.

The stand-up has based his solo debut on what it means to be queer and Christian, especially given that the church has not got the best reputation for being tolerant of anything except straight sexuality.

It’s an audacious premise, but Williams, though an articulate and engaging speaker, is not especially successful in marrying the two parts.

The spiritual side is often earnest, then followed by an explicit routine about, say, pegging. I suspect any Venn diagram showing audiences who want to hear a sincere journey of faith and those who want graphic sexual content would have a very narrow overlap. And hearing a comedian talk of the ‘light of Christ in his eyes’ entirely unironically sounds peculiar, no doubt about that. 

Bisexual Williams had an uneasy introduction to Christianity thanks to The Street Bible, a cringe-inducing early Noughties attempt to rewrite gospel in contemporary slang. He still recalls the homophobic language  used in the parable of The Prodigal Son as emphasised by a bigoted RE teacher, and the tale becomes a recurring motif here.

People often have trouble talking about their religious awakenings as it’s so personal and hard to convey. So it is with Williams, being able to talk only vaguely about receiving a ‘visit from God’ – guided, apparently, by the spirit of his lesbian nana. Meanwhile, his dad’s on his own spiritual journey, dabbling in shrooms.

While speaking of his epiphany is tricky, the comic can more practically talk about his church as a place of community that’s stepping up to help marginalised groups increasingly ignored by the government, from the disabled to asylum-seekers. Overseen by a gay vicar, it’s probably more inclusive than most.

Sexual awakenings are more straightforward for the sex-positive comic to address, starting from teenage fantasies about seducing the window cleaner, to his current relationship with an Olympic figure skater, growing from an unlikely start. Meanwhile, one routine that most successfully combines the two sides of the show discusses how saints often had an erotic relationship with the idea of Jesus.

For all the high concept here, Williams is at his most engaging talking about the everyday, especially in his humiliating day job as a ‘viral moment maker’ for a catfood brand.

He was, he says, originally going to spend this summer in a French monastery in silent retreat, which would be a real sacrifice for a man who clearly loves speaking. But while he has a lot to talk about,Touch Me Not neither quite gets to the crux of who he is, nor lands on enough punchlines, despite his open, friendly demeanour making him good  company. 

Review date: 25 Aug 2025
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett