Even among artists, there is a certain expectation that performance artists are particularly pretentious and opaque. This may apply to some, but certainly not to Harriet Richardson. Simultaneously warm and garrulous, and a pulsating, open wound, her first foray into comedy steers us through a particularly tumultuous time in the artist’s life. It’s a tale encompassing love, sex, religion, obsession, and a famous comedian that can’t be named for legal reasons. It’s hilarious, appalling, and one of most compelling hours you’ll see this year.

Following publicity around a work that saw her date 100 people online in one day, the comedian in question slid into her DMs. One intense online relationship later, terminated by a voicemail from the jokester’s flustered manager (he’s obviously a hard ‘Taskmaster’), Richardson embarks on an always bizarre, sometimes picaresque, and occasionally horrifying, quest to regain his attention.

Richardson is adamant that she isn’t a comedian. If we take her at face value then she’s at least a hell of a witty raconteur. Her comic timing is immaculate for a newcomer, she’s a very confident stage-presence with a persona that artfully balances the self-effacing and the knowingly solipsistic, and her ability to structure her story is almost novelistic. It helps that she’s meticulously documented every stage of her tale, with emails, photos, texts, videos, and oh so many internet comments (both a life’s bane and a comedian’s gift for women in the arts) being wielded in a way that augments and never distracts from her storytelling.

‘Creep’ is undoubtedly a cautionary tale. Harriet is unafraid to demonstrate how her fraying mental state led to some seriously questionable behaviour. She goes to some vividly-described dark places. A family Christmas in particular is a jaw-dropping moment of black comedy and social horror that may be the ultimate nadir. But while she’s not always sympathetic, she is always empathetic, and the narrative gradually evolves into one of catharsis, and how her artistic instincts helped her to heal.

One of the success stories of the Fringe so far, to catch Richardson you’ll have to look out for the extra shows that are popping up in the calendar for the rest of the month. If you still have no joy, one expects Harriet might be back next year for a victory lap; or perhaps even the next chapter in her life. ‘Creep’ is an exuberent, though often troubling show about how life and performance intertwine, sometimes inextricably. We can only hope to have Harriet Richardson back onstage soon, although one might be concerned what further travails would need to befall her for inspiration to strike again.

‘Creep‘ is at Pleasance Courtyard – Below until Sun 30 Aug 2026