Review of the celebration of female comedy talent

We’re used to comedy competitions featuring fresh new acts, but Funny Women has a wider window of eligibility than most – meaning half of this year’s finalists had already performed at least one solo hour. It certainly ensures a consistently high bar for the night. 

One of the least experienced acts opened the night, Madeleine Brettingham, fresh from her victory at the So You Think You’re Funny? very new act hunt at the Edinburgh Fringe last month. But she already has a robust, clear persona as a ‘female geezer’, her character forged in the old-school pubs her alcoholic single dad used to take her to. 

She’s got the measure of the uncomplicated men who drink in such places, while being attracted to the polar opposite, wet, boring blokes who’ll be more submissive. Brettingham also has another angle, in that she went to a posh university that gives her a birds-eye view across all social strata. 

Any one of these traits would be a solid start for a distinctive comic attitude, and together they’re impressive indeed. She’s got the stagecraft to back it up too, demonstrated here by referring back to an interaction compere Amy Gledhill had with an audience member, just to show she’s not rigidly sticking to a script All this landed her a well-earned runners-up spot, despite the unenviable position of going first.

Next up was Sharifa Butterfly, amusingly questioning and undermining the ‘strong black woman’ stereotype some white folk presume her to fit. But that’s nothing compared to the baggage that needs to be unpacked in the best woman speech she got ChatGPT to write for a biracial wedding – the assumptions the AI model makes being undermined by the comic’s playful, arch retelling.

She, too, has more arrows in her quiver. She barely touches on the fact she’s a virgin – a statement that could lead to so much more intriguing material – while she delivers a 50 Cent style rap that might have been better done straight, without her laughing at her own material, but still packs a punch. Another one to watch, all right.

Samantha Day has several full hours behind her, so no surprises that she knows her comic persona so well, too. With her blonde dreads and West Country accent she may come across as something of a hippy, but her set is defined more by cynicism than ‘peace-and-love’ idealism.

She’s especially pointed when mocking the frailties of Gen Z. She’s 56, but doesn’t look it – a triumph of Botox, she tells us, without having any work done below the neck. Cue some standard but effective material about the sagging of a middle-aged body from a highly engaging performer.

Rachel Galvo’s only being doing comedy for a year but her background in musical theatre gives her ownership of the stage, as was proven in her solo show The Shite Feminist, which is touring this autumn, including three nights in Dublin's sizeable Ambassadors Theatre. She barely needs Funny Women to establish herself on the circuit.

Her set explores her early love of performing, but the best segments reveal youthful insecurities you might not expect given her confident glamour on stage. The tale of her first tampon is a formidable banker, while the discussion of how women laugh in men’s company and away from it is as expertly observed as it is funny.

Sophie Garrard – who also made her Fringe debut this year – has had a similar life trajectory to opening act Brettingham, brought up by a working-class blokish bloke but now turned posh, no small thanks to her father’s ill-gotten gains.

This interesting backstory is revealed in an anecdote of being pulled over by police on the way to school. But Garrard tends to shun too much autobiographical  reality in  favour of playing up the privileged, unselfaware ‘rich bitch’ persona to cartoonish extremes. Such haughty attitude leads to some great snobby gags. If the character is relatively one-dimensional, that matters little in set that’s so short and punchline-rich.

In her neon pink jumpsuit, Kate Hammer certainly makes a distinctive impression, one she wittily likens to a ‘newly divorced real estate agent’. The Scottish-based Canadian hits some familiar marks – ADHD, TikTok, her sexuality (pansexual, to the bafflement of her parents) – with a verve and great stage presence, although her unabashedly frank material isn’t as memorable as her slightly bonkers persona.

 Shalaka Kurup, one of Chortle’s Hotshot debutants at the Fringe, has a witty, well-practised set about her Indian parents’ expectations, and run-ins with a Gen Z audience member who put  her in her place by calling her ‘cheugy’. 

The gags are sharp and delivered with engaging good nature, even though they can be spiky at their core. The fact she doesn’t express great depths of emotion is acknowledged in a set that spans Love Actually to her bisexually, though that same trait inevitably leads to some detachment between comic and audience. Strong writing goes a long way to bridging the gap.

In the guise of her alter-ego Zoe, Nicola Mantalios is one of those wonderfully esoteric comedians with natural funny bones, whose transcendent sense of humour is near-impossible to quantify with cold analysis.

She ambles on in double animal designs – wolves on her fleece and puppies’ faces on her leggings – and carrying a bag for life. A prop that, remarkably, is the basis for her whole routine. No line written down would seem funny, the joy is entirely in the delivery and the mannerisms – so casual it  almost seems she’s unaware this is supposed to be a performance, even though Zoe’s clearly a character.

There's an hilarious bit of interaction with a very obedient audience member, but Mantalios is funny with her whole being in a way it’d be impossible to teach. That made her a worthy winner of the top prize.

Kay Nicholson talks of the working-class area of Liverpool she grew up in, not knowing it was rough until she encountered the wider world.  That’s discussed briefly, but she prefers to turn her comic fire on posher folk.  When a line about Northern Rail doesn’t get much response, she has the great rejoinder: ‘Your lack of knowledge screams privilege!’ 

However, the routine about the precocious kids on Junior Masterchef is more predictable and one-note – the scorn is enjoyable but isn’t backed up with enough solid gags.

Cheeky, chatty and affable, Chinese comic Maple Zuo instantly engages with the audience, although her smiley manner can be a Trojan horse for more barbed material about her homeland or her sexuality not fitting in with traditional Chinese expectations. 

That combination of assured presence and well-pitched jokes secured her the second runners-up position – though, like all the acts on the bill tonight, her comedy future would have been assured whatever her placing.

Review date: 28 Sep 2025
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett
Reviewed at: Bloomsbury Theatre