Edinburgh Fringe comedy review

Perpetually full of beans and ‘insufferably delightful’ according to the headteacher at the school where she works, Ruby Carr’s sunny energy sustains her through this rendition of her sophomore hour, which took place in a suboptimal tent next to a busy road and played to a small, subdued crowd.

It’s a shame because she’s the kind of comic who would feed off the right crowd and whip them into a frenzy. You can tell she’s a primary school teacher, as enthusiasm is her stock in trade, and she fully commits to the many, many silly one-liners that litter her show, no matter where they sit on the groan spectrum.

That enthusiasm and her gift for prolific joke-writing are her two central strengths, both put to good use in her debut eBae. This follow-up, though, swims in much more dangerous waters, as Carr has structured the show largely around her struggles with OCD and her adult braces. ‘It’s the dental / mental crossover Edinburgh’s been screaming out for.’

The braces are a good topic for her, but she struggles with tone management when she switches into the OCD stuff and her experiences with group therapy and anxiety. 

When she’s on that topic, she’s either so bright and breezy that it feels like it’s being pushed aside, or she seems a little shell-shocked. In either mode, her performance reads like she hasn’t fully digested what happened to her, or at least hasn’t figured out how to make it a driver for her comedy. 

Her crafty approach to her props is very enjoyable, particularly the nightmarish puppet she makes of her therapist in the last five minutes, but audiences will be left with some strangely clashing flavours. I’d be interested to see a show of just the one-liners; I have a hunch she could be our next Tim Vine if she wanted to be.

Review date: 29 Aug 2026
Reviewed by: Tim Harding
Reviewed at: Hoots @ Nicolson Square Garden