Latest news with #Kemsley
Metro
4 days ago
- Entertainment
- Metro
Harriet Kemsley took me back to her hotel room at the Edinburgh Fringe
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 entertainment team by emailing us celebtips@ 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'
USA Today
26-04-2025
- Entertainment
- USA Today
'Real Housewives' star Dorit Kemsley files to divorce P.K. after Shana Wall spotting
'Real Housewives' star Dorit Kemsley files to divorce P.K. after Shana Wall spotting Show Caption Hide Caption Garcelle Beauvais dishes on the romance in new film 'Tempted by Love' Garcelle Beauvais chats with USA TODAY's Ralphie Aversa about her new Lifetime movie, "Tempted by Love" and the portrayal of women on TV. Dorit Kemsley is officially splitting from husband Paul "P.K." Kemsley. The resident fashionista on "The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills," 48, filed to divorce the British businessman, 57, in Los Angeles Superior Court on April 25 less than two weeks after Season 14 of the Bravo reality show ended. The move follows multiple media outlets reporting that the former Beverly Beach founder's estranged husband was photographed kissing and holding hands with former "Amazing Race" contestant Shana Wall. USA TODAY reached out to reps for the Kemsleys. A rep for Wall could not be reached for comment. The pair are parents to son Jagger, 11, and daughter Phoenix, 9. Kemsley is requesting legal and physical custody of their two children. Kemsley, citing irreconcilable differences, is also requesting that her ex pay her legal fees. Nearly a year ago, on May 9, the Kemsleys announced they were taking a break from their marriage. 'Real Housewives' stars Dorit, P.K. Kemsley announce 'some time apart' from marriage "We as a couple have been subject to a lot of speculation about our marriage. We have had out struggles over the past few years and continue to work through them as two people who love each other and share two amazing children together," the statement from Kemsley's Instagram story read. "To safeguard our deep friendship and maintain a harmonious environment for our children we have made the mutual and difficult decision to take some time apart and reevaluate our relationship while we prioritize our children. We appreciate your love and support while we continue to do the work necessary throughout this journey," the couple said. The Kemsleys' marriage storyline has been source of major 'RHOBH' drama Kemsley first joined the cast of "RHOBH" as a diamond holder in 2016. In 2021, the Los Angeles Police Department confirmed that Dorit Kemsley was the subject of a home invasion Wednesday evening in the city's wealthy Encino neighborhood. The break-in was detailed on Season 12 of "The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills" and the robbery's effect on the Kemsleys' marriage has been chronicled during subsequent seasons. The Kemsleys' marriage tension and split became the source of major drama on the most recent season of "Beverly Hills," which wrapped April 15. Last year's split news was announced a week after Kemsley's "Housewives" co-star and ex-close friend Kyle Richards removed her husband, real estate mogul Mauricio Umansky's last name from her Instagram bio. Kemsley archnemesis and actress Garcelle Beauvais announced her departure from "RHOBH" in an Instagram post March 25, before the show's three-part reunion began airing. Beauvais walked off the set and has since unfollowed her fellow diamond holders Kemsley, Richards, Bozoma Saint John, Erika Jayne Girardi and Sutton Stracke. Oscar nominee Jennifer Tilly and Richards' sister, the socialite Kathy Hilton, star as friends of the casts alongside the remaining diamond holders on "RHOBH." Who is Shanna Wall? Wall competed on Season 12 of CBS reality adventure competition "The Amazing Race" in 2007 and 2008 alongside her friend Jennifer McCall as the pair placed 7th out of 10 teams after their elimination in week five. Now a certified sommelier, she was previously linked to "American Idol" and "Wheel of Fortune" host Ryan Seacrest in the early 2000s. Contributing: Taijuan Moorman
The Guardian
28-02-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
‘A huge chunk of men don't want a funny partner': the podcast revealing the horrors of dating as a comedian
A few months ago, comedians Amy Gledhill and Harriet Kemsley went speed dating. Tentatively hopeful and giddily anxious, they settled their nerves with a drink before arriving at the venue, a trendy south-east London pizzeria. In the event, any excitement was unwarranted: Kemsley 'dissociated' and went quiet, while Gledhill found herself in 'corporate team-building mode', using humour to grease the wheels of other people's dates while disengaging on a personal level. The men weren't perfect, either: one avoided all eye contact; another recognised Gledhill – who has become a familiar face since winning last year's Edinburgh fringe prize – and started doing her own material at her. There was a promising development, though: one attender slid into Gledhill's DMs later that evening – and she replied. How do I know all this? Because since October, Kemsley and Gledhill have been routinely spilling the beans about their love lives on their candid and hugely endearing podcast Single Ladies in Your Area. The show sees the 37-year-olds grapple with modern dating, a premise that requires them to share their hopes, fears and deepest vulnerabilities. 'We divulge too much,' says Kemsley, sitting in the offices of the podcast's production company, fresh from another heart-on-sleeve recording. 'And then we listen to it and go: 'That's fine, put it out!'' laughs Gledhill beside her. The pair came up with the concept at a comedy industry event: they had coincidentally both decided to reveal they were newly single during their respective standup sets. The audience was made up of peers and friends, many of whom didn't yet know Gledhill had separated from her partner, nor that Kemsley had split from her husband and the father of her daughter, Canadian comic Bobby Mair. When the latter mentioned it, 'there was a gasp. It's horrible when you're doing live comedy and people are whispering: is this true?! I felt really embarrassed.' Backstage, the pair joked that they should do a podcast on the subject – a joke that quickly morphed into a solid plan. The charm of Single Ladies in Your Area is rooted in Kemsley and Gledhill's personalities: unjaded yet meticulously self-effacing; it's impossible not to become overly invested in the ridiculously likable duo's romantic (mis)fortunes. From the start, they knew their USP would be relatability – the opposite of 'confident, empowered' influencers and their TikTok dating hacks. A recurring theme is their struggle to master the apps: on a recently recorded episode, comedian Stephen Bailey ripped their profiles 'to shreds', says Gledhill. 'One of my pictures was actually in a graveyard, and he was like: 'Get rid of that.'' Kemsley 'had put that I like sloths in mine. He said: 'That's not how you're going to meet your person.'' Sharing the content of their profiles on the show has been 'so humiliating', she continues. 'You're selling yourself and it's such a weird, unnatural thing to do.' The dating landscape may be new to them, but Gledhill and Kemsley are seasoned pros when it comes to mining laughs from love. Gledhill's latest show, Make Me Look Fit on the Poster, revisits the gobsmacking low points of various past relationships, while Kemsley's current tour – Everything Always Works Out for Me – focuses on the aftermath of her divorce. It comes after a long period spent collaborating with Mair: in 2017, the couple made a 'reality sitcom' about their nuptials for Vice; the following year they appeared on Roast Battle, throwing eye-watering insults at each other in the name of comedy (sample Kemsley line: 'Some people say men marry their mother, but I don't think that's true because I'm not a dead prostitute'). She describes their work/life crossover as 'volatile, but we know each other's voices so well and you trust each other in those situations'. That said, 'I think maybe I wouldn't do a roast battle with my next husband.' Gledhill and Kemsley's shared choice of career has also complicated their romantic prospects. For men, comedy is a surefire way to get girls; for women, it's 'the opposite', says Gledhill. 'There's a huge chunk of men that don't want a funny, outspoken partner.' Standup usually revolves round a performer riffing on their failures and flaws, something Gledhill thinks is very appealing to women because they 'love a project. Women love to fix men. Whereas men go: 'Oh, fuck that.'' 'Yeah, but we're not doing that any more!' interjects Kemsley. 'We're learning from the podcast that we don't want to be fixer-uppers,' Gledhill confirms. Bar a few exceptions, the podcast's guests tend to be the pair's female comedian pals (Sophie Willan, Chloe Petts, Felicity Ward). It's reflective of the new standup sisterhood: previously, the unofficial one-woman-per-show rule meant female comics rarely crossed paths, says Kemsley, but the gradual diversification of lineups over the past decade has given them the chance to bond. Nowadays, the scene is 'so supportive', says Gledhill. 'There's some really good friendship groups of just funny, funny women. And we have a fucking great time.' Solidarity is important in an industry that normalises a lack of personal safety. Some men 'really like to be close to female comedians in an unhealthy creepy way', says Gledhill. There are practical issues, too. In order to afford to attend the Edinburgh fringe one year, Gledhill slept in a cupboard in a flat occupied by 20 strangers. 'I didn't feel scared because I was young. I'd be fucking terrified now.' While it has always been difficult to make ends meet when performing in Edinburgh – Gledhill once trained as a masseuse and gave massages to festivalgoers so she could pay her bills – rocketing prices have made it harder than ever. 'It feels so unfair because you have to spend about £10,000. If it carries on like this, it'll just be privileged kids. And working-class kids are funny!' On a personal level, Gledhill no longer has such concerns – in fact, she's the reigning queen of the fringe. Despite having already been nominated twice as half of comedy double act the Delightful Sausage, she was utterly flabbergasted at being awarded the main comedy prize last year. 'When Richard Osman gives me the award I'm in such shock that I'm grimacing,' she says, hauntedly recalling the footage of the ceremony. 'I look like I've just seen a horrific car accident.' Kemsley has had some characteristically chaotic Edinburgh experiences; her first fringe involved 'accidentally doing a Christian message play. I found out because everyone joined hands and started praying backstage'. At that point the Kent native was attempting to become a 'serious' actor 'but people kept laughing'. Then her parents advised her to try standup: 'They were like mad things always happen to you and you always have funny stories.' She took to it immediately. 'I'd always been a bit shy, but doing standup I could say what I thought and people liked it.' Well, not always. The first out-there anecdote she deployed was about 'the time I accidentally killed an owl, which sometimes would be too dark'. Gledhill's career was sparked by her university boyfriend. 'He was an open-mic comedian and he was terrible. And I'd watch him and go: 'God, I could definitely do it at least as well as him.'' Both Gledhill – who had been a 'creepy' classic sitcom obsessive as a child growing up in Hull – and Kemsley say they had never considered a career in standup as youngsters, partly due to the dearth of female comics in the 90s and 00s. 'I rarely saw women doing it when I was growing up,' says Gledhill. 'Only Jo Brand and maybe Jenny Eclair.' Times have changed, though. Nowadays, comedy is a more conceivable – and aspirational – career for women. A case in point is that the wall behind the sofa is adorned with huge, glossy posters promoting the pair's tour shows: Gledhill's diva-like get-up – voluminous perm and feather-trimmed top – is undercut by Wotsit dust-caked lips; Kemsley, meanwhile, is glam as can be in pink satin, save for the small fire working its way up her long, blond tresses. Despite their chronic self-deprecation and the apparently repellent nature of their profession, the posters have me wondering whether these two attractive, successful women will be on the market long enough to make the podcast a viable long-term prospect. 'People were concerned about that, but it turns out we're not in any trouble,' deadpans Kemsley. If they do, the show has already proven to be a strangely valuable communication tool. When a recent squeeze of Gledhill started listening, the effect was 'kind of cool, because you're giving someone an instruction manual on how you need to be loved; he knew my love of languages, that I have no boundaries, he knew everything!' The only problem was that it wasn't 'a two-way street. So I said to him: you need to do me a podcast!' If exchanging personalised audio content turns out to be the next dating innovation, you heard it here first. Harriet Kemsley is touring the UK until 12 April. A new episode of Single Ladies in Your Area is released every Friday on Spotify and Apple.
