Edinburgh Fringe comedy review

The Fringe means many things to many people, but to me, right now, it means Mothman. This ultra silly, ramshackle, queer-coded sketch comedy musical about being gay for cryptids is basically everything you could ever need out of an Edinburgh show.

It is performed by a supergroup of rising stars. Alex Franklin is the de facto lead, who wrote the script and music alongside the incredibly creative Nikola McMurtrie. Rounding out the cast is the improviser and musical comedian Alex Prescot, and a succession of very odd cameos from the character act Hudson Hughes.

Franklin, McMurtrie and Prescot play a trio of American teens in a love triangle who have come out to the backwoods of Virginia to hunt for the famous Mothman, but find themselves drawn into romance, intrigue and adventure. 

It’s hard to argue that the players achieve the same kind of synchronicity as an outfit like Crybabies, but they each bring something pretty wonderful to the table. Prescot is the most convincing teen and probably the strongest singer; McMurtrie is on the bells and whistles, a talented dancer and best at the voices; and you can tell that Franklin is entering her power as a stand-up – her comedic asides and breaking of the fourth wall provide welcome extra dimension. Hughes meanwhile functions as some kind of secret weapon, rolling in (literally) every five minutes with another outrageously weird character.

They all come together to contribute to the insane gag rate, which really feels like four shows worth of jokes stuffed haphazardly into one hour. So many of them are really sublime as well: watch out for a fantastic bit near the end featuring a projector, or the line where Prescot is accused of being ‘clearly from an improv troupe’. These are jokes that stand alongside the best the form has to offer. 

The songs are very good too. Even when the singing is a little more, shall we say, ‘inconsistent’, they’re catchy and funny enough that even hardcore musical fans should be satisfied.

It does retain a fair bit of that knockabout, almost studenty feel, and it’ll be up to viewer discretion whether you find that charming or not, but you could certainly argue that some of the elements introduced in the back half are incongruous in a way that doesn’t necessarily help the show. 

Operation Mincemeat, for example, managed to do without a five-minute section dedicated to a character called Stabbo The Clown who has almost literally no relevance whatsoever to outside proceedings. Not that it’s not funny, it just adds to the sense of the show as a sort of honking jalopy rather than anything particularly fine-tuned.

Many other viewers will see a feature in those bugs, and I think they’re right to do so. You’ll struggle to have more fun at this year’s Fringe.

Review date: 24 Aug 2026
Reviewed by: Tim Harding
Reviewed at: Underbelly Cowgate