We sat down with Alex Kitson, talking about their show This is Water as part of the EdFringe 2025. This Is Water will be performed at the Big Yurt at Potterrow from 1-25th August. Tickets here.
Can you summarise your show in two lines?
It’s about the importance of awareness; of you and your surroundings. But also (not entirely accidentally, it’s an hour of high energy standup in a yurt just as my ADHD meds are wearing off – so it should be a laugh.
Your new show’s called This is Water – a nod to the unseen stuff we’re all swimming in. What made you want to dive into those quieter, deeper questions this year?
I’ve always admired shows that have a theme but wear it lightly. My show last year had a very clear purpose, was very story driven and was incredibly raw. So I wanted to do almost the opposite this year. A show people wouldn’t know what it was ‘about’ until the very end. Jokes that have a story rather than a story with jokes. The speech I named the show after is about perspective (and how to deliberately shift it) so it seemed like a perfect theme to for an hour of observational stand up comedy – and (hopefully) gives me some scope to make the audience go ‘Ahhhh’ at the end.
How did the success of last year’s show influence how you approached This is Water?
It definitely gave me the confidence that I could do it again! It was a big relief to discover that there are people out there who really like my stuff and that I liked them too. I’ve worked on this new show with a much clearer sense of who my audience is – and I think it’ll be better as a result.
You’ve written for the BBC, Channel 4, and millions of online viewers. How does writing for yourself as a performer differ from writing for others or platforms?
When you’re writing for yourself you’re also your own editor, director, producer etc. etc. – which can mean you’re juggling lots of competing thoughts. I sometimes find that hard to manage with my own work – it’s hard to be completely creative while staying objective, pragmatic etc. So if I’m writing for someone else though, I find I can sit there and just really enjoy that creative challenge. I’m way more logical and professional when it’s not me I’m writing for! Also, it’s very different as nowadays I mostly write for online (which I don’t do myself) and comedians who aren’t similar to me in terms of voice/persona etc. at all. So it really feels like I’m using a different part of my brain.
What’s the most memorable audience interaction you’ve had this year so?
I had a show at the Brighton Fringe where three of the drunkest people I’d ever met had seen me at a compilation show just before my show. They turned up and were incredibly supportive, but were about 10 minutes behind everyone else in the audience. It was like playing two gigs at once. I had to give them my notes in the end so they could keep up (and I sat on one of their wine glasses trying to show them what they were looking at)
What’s the one piece of advice you wish someone had given you before your first Fringe – and what’s one piece you’re glad you ignored?
I wish someone had told me very sternly that, even if you don’t realise it’s happening, spending every waking hour thinking about you will narrow your worldview so much you’ll turn a bit insane. Plus you’re barely sleeping – the world isn’t out to get you just because some reviewer person didn’t fully understand one of your jokes .You just went to bed at five in the morning for a month. Stop being thick.
One piece of advice I’m glad I ignored is don’t do a show unless you’re in a fancy venue. Be a comedian – just go do it.