James Trickey: Split

★★★★

James Trickey has learnt a thing or two since his Edinburgh Fringe debut in 2025—namely that comedy is a dangerous game. Not taking any chances this year, Trickey entered Bunker Two in protective headgear, signalling to audiences that the performance (one of two martial arts displays in the hour) had begun, and it promised more spirit and dynamism than your run-of-the-mill stand-up routine.

From his entrance into the boxing ring, Trickey weaves together anecdotes which tackle rivalry, masculinity, and shame—all comfortably within the wheelhouse of a finance-bro turned comic visiting from London. Yet what makes Trickey so compelling is not his casual self-deprecation or comedic mockeries, but the playful sense of spite which underlies all of his jokes. It is through his waggish malevolence that Trickey’s easy charisma is punctured, painting himself as a sort of Gargamelian character by cheering on the downfall of those around him with seemingly little success. 

The crowd at Friday’s 9PM show was certainly a strange one, but luckily, accountant by day or not, Trickey is no amateur, and incorporated his audience’s eccentricities into his set. It is in proper cartoon-villain fashion that there truly seems to be a curse on Trickey’s Fringe runs (the first marred by physical violence; the second, by what can only be described as auditory violence, with Trickey receiving some of the most bizarre off-time laughs I have heard at a comedy show). 

Still, if you find yourself with a spare evening over the next few weeks, Trickey promises a playful hour—and maybe your crowds will be kinder than mine was. I, for one, am excited to return to the comic next year in the hopes that this curse might finally be broken. As they say, third time’s the charm. 

Muna Mir