Edinburgh Fringe Reviews: Losing my Religion
There’s a quote that compares Catholicism to herpes – that if it’s in your blood, it’s there forever. Whether you’re a survivor, suffered a brief infection, or live with it every day, religion certainly provides a wealth of material
Brought up Baptist, John Pendal [★★★] came blinkingly out the closet at 18, and straight into the world of S&M. It’s a funny counterpoint – from feeling trapped among people who deny themselves pleasure (drinking, dancing, sex) as penance, to finding liberation in a community which finds bliss in punishment. Warm, polite, and terribly British, Pendal’s best material comes any time he’s describing his world, whether it’s war stories with other comedians, fashion in the 80s, or that time he won the International Man of Leather pageant. Kink is another country, they do things differently there.
One theme which deserves a wider audience is his belief that kink should be taught in school, which initially sounds ridiculous, but makes perfect, blinding sense after about ten seconds, as you realise it entirely revolves around consent. The one problem Pendal has is that his natural audience is very, very niche – bears of a certain age. He will need to bridge that gap to appeal to a wider audience, and that’s a tough gig.
Katy Brand’s [★★★★], audience, on the other hand, have no problem relating to her. Most people did mortifying things when they were teenagers. Few (if any) have video proof of them talking about their ‘God-shaped hole’ on Blue Peter. Brand’s show is chronological, from her whompingly wholehearted conversion at 13 to her complete disillusionment four years later; and the tale is anything but worthy – it’s excruciating, and frankly bananas, a retrospective naked lunch.
As Christianity goes, this particular church is on the extreme end of the spectrum, with speaking in tongues, ‘slaying the spirit’, and an exorcism all part of the yarn. However, it’s the when she relates it back to her self-righteous behaviour at school that the embarrassment really burns. It’s laugh-out-loud and die-a-little-inside funny, from a girl who knows she’s got great material and charm in spades.
Shazia Mirza’s gig [★★★★] is less about being Muslim, more the weight of other people’s perceptions. Mirza’s sets can teeter on the brink of carping for carping’s sake, but at this moment in time – post-Brexit, post-Nice, post-Orlando – it’s on point and wholly justified. She needles her Guardian-reading audience with gusto, then braces this by describing the retro-racism that’s sweeping the country post-referendum.
She reinterprets the Qu’ran for the purposes of clubbing, and takes a hearty dig at out-voting Brummies. Her piece about the Bethnal Green girls is properly funny, and the closer is chilling and superb, guaranteed to have the audience checking Google on their way out the show. You’re not likely to escape the feeling of being berated, but there’s a good chance you’ll enjoy it.
John Pendal: International Man of Leather, The Stand Comedy Club 3, 4-28 Aug (not 15), 4.45 pm, £6-8
Katy Brand: I Was a Teenage Christian, Pleasance Courtyard (Upstairs), 3-29 Aug (not 15), 4.45 pm, £7-13.50
Shazia Mirza, The Stand Comedy Club 5, 4-13 Aug, 6.15 pm, £7-9