We’ve seen shows that deliver hard on shock value yet manage to stay fresh and original; shows that blunt the woes of trauma and refashion them into a source of laughter; shows that deliver messages of self-acceptance and identity-finding without being preachy. Chloe Petts succeeds in doing all of this but better. Who else but the Kent virtuoso herself could bridge a gap as wide as Crystal Palace F.C. and sex with chickens? Returning to the Fringe for her third year, Petts delivers a blisteringly riotous performance as she takes a jaunt down memory lane to her adolescence and earlier comedic beginnings, melding the irritants of trolls and cyberbullies into the pearl of her comedic renaissance.
We are truly lucky to have the charm, the imagination and the unquenchable wit of Chloe Petts
The pacing is airtight, leaving no purchase for gaps between the laughter, with Petts’ slick delivery never missing a trick and cooly handling the larger gag set ups without losing momentum. Strong set pieces include her take on an imagined heteronormative Queer Eye complete with frigid club dance moves, and her burgeoning sexual discovery from having her feet measured complimented by a genuine Shoe Zone foot measurer. Swiftly moving to attend to romantic ventures, the eagle-eyed Petts scopes out the newly dating couple from the crowd and gifts them a three-month anniversary present in the form of an impromptu roast, showcasing the queer comic’s strong improv abilities and use of the crowd.
Whilst Petts isn’t self-depecrating to the point of flagellation, she can mock her appearance with ample payoffs where she takes aim at her oft-compared likeness to Lewis Capaldi, dragging him down with her in the process. On one level, this serves to showcase Petts’ affable personality and dynamic charisma – she is by no means afraid to poke fun at herself nor anyone else. On another, it allows her to delve into her experience of spiteful online trolls in the wake of her stint reporting at Sky Sports News that saw her endure a tidal wave of abuse from those furious at the prospect of a female commentator. But Petts, ever the razor-sharp mind, converts this resentful energy into her own comic battery and finishes her show by delivering a scathingly funny rebuttal with deft aplomb.
No less a comedic triumph, the show sees collective joy filled in every pocket of the grateful crowd as the queer comic rallies zinger after zinger in rapid succession. Even the minor japes elicit the heartiest of chortles, be it the acronym on her school pencil case or the reference to Mufasa as an “animated DILF”. Petts’ return to Edinburgh isn’t a case of third time lucky; she makes all of it happen on her own. No, we are truly the lucky ones to have the charm, the imagination and the unquenchable wit of Chloe Petts in our comedic circuit.