Edinburgh Fringe comedy review

Which Taskmaster contestant sent Harriet Richardson a dick pic? It’s a question that has to remain unanswered for legal reasons, though it will have her audiences guessing.

The comic’s bold move came after Richardson – who defined herself as a performance artist before this foray into stand-up – undertook a project to go on 100 virtual dates one Valentine’s Day. Uncomfortably flirtatious messages were exchanged until the older comedian’s agent put a stop to it all.

Rather unexpectedly, Richardson had actually been into this come-on, and after contact was stopped, doggedly stalked him online, even finding an eBay account and trying to match with him on dating apps by posting pictures of herself with comedy people. (I was VERY surprised to find myself prominent among the bait here!)

This reverse Baby Reindeer is compelling beyond the gossip factor, and challenges the mantra that ‘online is not real life’. How can that be true when we spend so much time there, and leave vast digital footprints from our real-world actions? Her obsession with this parasocial relationship was certainly genuine, too, and revealing it feels like she’s seeking an intimacy with the audience as she did with the TV comedian. 

One question you could ask of Richardson is whether all her life is performance… a question that her therapist did indeed ask her. She finds the perfect medium to strip away all such masks: proof-of-delivery photographs taken on her doorstep that show her at her rawest, with zero filter.

That even these have now ended up being used in performance is an ironic point, but they do make for a striking visual representation of her changing mental state.

Eventually – and after a bit of a side-plot involving a genuinely cool local vicar – she is ready for her next artistic project, having the names of the mothers of all the men she has slept with tattooed on her body, quite the audacious way to make an important statement. 

To fill in a couple of blanks from almost-forgotten one-night stands, Richardson recruits a private investigator dubbed Michael Evidence, an hilarious supporting character. And the tattoo project, which Richardson called Temporary, led to an inspiring, heartwarming moment to give this story the perfect ending.

Putting so much of herself in the public domain may not be healthy, but it  has provided a cracking yarn, with the revelation of each morsel of evidence on the screen providing a new twist, or a new joke that has the audience fully invested. Openness and self-awareness – and not to mention a fiercely mischievous sense of humour – make Richardson an engaging teller of her impeccably-constructed story. 

Review date: 23 Aug 2026
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett
Reviewed at: Pleasance Courtyard