Heckle Off - Isy Suttie and Danielle Ward
Two top female comics at the Fringe get their claws out and prepare for battle
I: You are the worst female comedienne who is a woman, that I’ve ever seen.
D: At least I am a woman. Unlike your mother.
I: My mother may prefer to live as a man with her own special penis, but at least she didn’t keep my pet rabbit in the living room dressed in a bonnet for six months after it had died.
D: That rabbit wasn’t dead. It was just sleeping. With its eyes open. You know I’d leave carrots out for him but he never ate them. Anyway, you have a twisty back. Like Barry George after he jumped over those buses on roller-skates like it says on his Wikipedia entry.
I: At least all my family aren’t from The Netto.
D: They’re from The Nottingham. Though culturally they’re not hugely dissimilar.
I: At least I didn’t reveal a part of my anatomy for £50 at a gig.
D: It was £52. Git. At least I didn’t throw up whilst on a bus, into a kitten heeled shoe.
I: It was a sling back stiletto. And you’re the git. You git.
D: You’ve never known a man. In the biblical sense.
I: What? I’ve never known a man with a beard? At least I don’t spread my legs like a slag made of butter.
D: You are thinking of your mother. At least my uncle didn’t try to commit suicide by jumping off a low wall on a space-hopper.
I: He wasn’t trying to commit suicide, he was trying to fly. My Uncle loves Michael Crawford from Some Mothers Do Have Em. Not in a sexy way. Anyway, God loves me. He hates you, he told me in a song while I was sleeping.
D: There is no God, Isy.
I: Then how do you explain war?
D: War is one of the seven wonders of the world. Along with zombies, conditioner, cheese, wood, cactus, cacti and… oh no. That’s my shopping list. *zing*
I: But what happens after you die?
D: Nothing happens. There is no bright light at the end. Unless you’re killed by being smashed in the face with a lamp. Or being fired from a cannon straight at a lighthouse.
I: I’m not an atheist. I’m an anarchist.
D: Anarchists are just vegetarians with a badge-making machine.
I: At least my imaginary friend doesn’t think I’m a twat.
D: Me and Danielle Ward had a huge falling out over what gait she should have.
I: Your imaginary friend has the same name as you?
D: Yes. I don’t have much of an imagination. I know. Your mother is so fat, she had to have a gastric band fitted. But she’s alright now isn’t she?
I: Yeah. She’s doing really well. Thanks.