Harriet Kemsley took me back to her hotel room at the Edinburgh Fringe

Metro

a day ago

Being in a hotel room at the Edinburgh Fringe with 20 strangers might sound odd to some, slightly exciting to a few, but to me, it sounded like a once-in-a-lifetime luxury.
Especially compared to the accommodation Hunger Games that usually unfold during the festival. That's the kind of cut-throat housing competition that sees improv troupes battling it out for a chance to stay in Gladys's airing cupboard in Leith (story for another time).
So when I heard that 38-year-old Harriet Kemsley was hosting guests in her hotel room as part of her new show, In Bed With…Harriet Kemsley, I knew I had to be there to witness the magic for myself. After all, it's not every day a comedian invites you upstairs…
Fresh off the back of her appearance on Amazon Prime Video's Last One Laughing UK, which drew 6.1million viewers and became one of the streamer's most-watched original shows, Kemsley returned to the Fringe with a lot to live up to after making it mainstream.
And rightly so — she's undeniably a big dog now.
Fuel your wanderlust with our curated newsletter of travel deals, guides and inspiration. Sign up here.
Down a cobbled street, the show was held at the Hotel Indigo, York Place, where I'd been invited to stay for the weekend.
On the morning of the performance, I headed down for breakfast (of course, the full Edinburgh, haggis and all), and as I took my first sip of black coffee, still half-asleep, I heard the familiar shuffle of sliders on polished floorboards.
I looked up, and there she was: Kemsley herself, settling at the table next to mine.
At first, I wondered: Is this part of the show?
An immersive, day-long experience where she roams the halls, joins guests for breakfast, and debates the appropriate shade of a cup of tea? Sadly not.
She was simply grabbing a vegetarian full English before service wrapped up, but a boy can dream. Regardless, my excitement to head upstairs to her hotel room had officially peaked.
Hours later, Harriet did, in fact, take me back to her hotel room – along with 19 other eager strangers – for what turned out to be the most unexpectedly cosy, clever and personal set I've seen at the Fringe.
I didn't know what to expect. After all, if she could fire ping pong balls from her nether regions at Daisy May Cooper and Richard Ayoade on national television, what on earth might she do in a hotel room? (Get your head out of the gutter.)
Inside, she was perched cross-legged on a double bed, framed by four plush pillows and tucked beneath crisp white hotel linens, the kind you have to foot wrestle with on night one.
If I'm being honest, I'd walked the corridor in single file with the rest of the audience, feeling a tad apprehensive. But once inside, the room transformed into something familiar and warm.
It felt like heading into your friend's bedroom the morning after a big night out for a debrief. She held court, and we, her devoted subjects. I knew I was about to see something special.
The irony of a stand-up show performed entirely sitting down was enough to make me chuckle, but the material stood entirely on its own.
The tight, half-hour set delivered joke after joke, and I found myself laughing in a way that made me sympathise with her Last One Laughing co-stars.
Covering the trials of being newly single following her 2024 divorce from fellow comedian Bobby Mair, Kemsley's authority and authenticity were magnetic.
From navigating an amicable split and re-entering the dating world, to choking on Lego, knees pressed against the edge of the 'stage' (aka the bed), I was witnessing a seasoned pro at work, one who knows her voice and what resonates.
Winning over the nation on television is one thing. Translating that energy into a tiny hotel room for a dozen people is another entirely. It was a masterclass in intimacy and comedic control.
A Fringe and comedy veteran, Kemsley began her stand-up career in 2011, quickly rising through the ranks. She's long been outspoken about the challenges the Edinburgh Fringe poses to emerging performers.
In an Instagram post following her 2022 show Honeysuckle Island, she described the Fringe as 'really weird and sometimes not in a good way,' commenting on the 'horrible pressure' placed on artists, and advocating for the Festival to be a space for experimentation and fun.
Speaking with her after the show, she reflected on being in a 'lucky position now', free from some of the pressures she faced early on, but was quick to stress that more support is still needed for newcomers.
Specifically, how the financial strain of coming to the Fringe often shuts out underrepresented voices, meaning it's usually the same kinds of acts that can afford to take the risk.
Part of that support, she said, is as simple as showing up. Seeing new performers. Filling seats. More Trending
Over a drink in Indigo's newly refurbished bar and lounge, Kemsley rattled off timings, venues and names like a living, breathing Fringe encyclopaedia. She insisted I see Sharon Wanjohi's In the House – which I did, and was utterly obsessed with. (Seriously, don't miss it if you're heading up this month.)
While financial support for artists at the Fringe still lags where it should be, I left feeling quietly hopeful.
With voices like Kemsley's leading the conversation, change feels not just possible but probable.
Here's hoping next year brings even more hotel room performances, just maybe not in Gladys's airing cupboard (as I said, story for another time).
Got a story?
If you've got a celebrity story, video or pictures get in touch with the Metro.co.uk entertainment team by emailing us [e-mail], calling 020 3615 2145 or by visiting our Submit Stuff page – we'd love to hear from you.
MORE: Red Arrows flight path: Where and when to see this weekend's displays
MORE: I took my family on a digital detox holiday and something extraordinary happened
MORE: Hal Cruttenden: 'When my wife left me I realised men are just spoilt babies'