Gail Porter is sitting on a tartan blanket in her London flat, talking me through some of the curveballs that life has dealt her, from the surreal to the cruel via the downright daft. Her rescue cat Ziggy comes and goes from her lap, rubbing slowly on Porter every time she passes. ‘I’m bald but also covered in hair,’ Porter eyerolls, giving Ziggy a warm squeeze.
The TV star and mental-health advocate is describing getting a phone call at work a few years ago to say her dad had just passed away. They’d spoken a few hours earlier. After dealing with the news of his sudden death from a brain haemorrhage, Porter made an emergency trip to Spain and managed, with difficulty, to bring her father’s ashes home on the last flight before the country went into lockdown (she scattered them in the sea at Portobello, where she was born and raised). ‘After takeoff, this air hostess asked me if I’d like a glass of prosecco. Harassed but relieved I’d made it, I looked over at dad in the chair beside me, or rather his ashes, and said, “we’ll take four please”.’ 
Fifteen minutes into our Zoom call, we’ve covered cremation, having her phone hacked by a tabloid, a phase when she slept rough, modelling jobs, social media and drag queens. By 30 minutes, the very likeable and compulsively real Porter has given me her mobile number and invited me for a cocktail when she’s in Edinburgh.
‘I have to allow an extra hour when I go out,’ she says. ‘I end up chatting to my neighbours or someone I don’t know in Sainsbury’s. I normally end up hugging someone. Yesterday two elderly women were telling me about their friend who lost her dentures.’ Blethery and bright eyed yet balancing everything with a healthy dose of cynicism, there’s barely any filter on the chat, but no bullshit either.

Porter doesn’t do phoney bravado, nor does she do self-pity. She just tells you what happened; shrugging, laughing, once almost crying but not quite. In the 2019 documentary Being Gail Porter (which went on to win a BAFTA), she revisited some of her favourite jobs, including being the vivacious TV presenter of Fully Booked and Top Of The Pops during a phase of self-harm and extreme loneliness. The documentary showed her to be a passionate campaigner for many excellent causes close to her heart (eating disorders, alopecia, animal rights, homelessness), as well as someone still openly struggling with anxiety and self-doubt. It also covered the incident Porter believes she is most famous for; when lads mag FHM projected her naked image, without her knowledge or consent, onto the Houses Of Parliament. 
‘I think I’ve pretty much told everyone everything by now,’ she deadpans, while explaining why she’s bringing her debut Fringe show to Edinburgh. ‘I’m sure some folk in the crowd will be yawning like, “yeah, we already know that Gail!”,’ she adds, self-deprecatingly. ‘Doing my own stand-up show is a bucket-list thing; it’s personal. My mum took me to Fringe shows every year. It’s not for my friends; we’ve discussed all our problems together by now anyway, and my brother won’t come because he can hear me tell those stories anytime for free. But I do want people to hear that they are not alone. If they are smiling but also struggling, they can come and have a good cry. I’d like to make people smile too.’

The night before our interview, after a pre-Fringe preview in London, two girls waited behind to see her. ‘They were about 20 or 21, my daughter’s age. They told me they’d really enjoyed the documentary. I said, “oh! Do you not get out much?” They said they appreciated me speaking about mental health. That’s who it’s for.’ 
While others bring shows to Edinburgh hoping it will springboard them on to starry projects or international work, Porter isn’t raising her expectations too high. ‘I very much doubt anything will come of it, but if I can pay my rent and look after [her daughter] Honey, I’m happy. Friends have given me their house to house-sit in August so that should help me avoid bankruptcy with Edinburgh rent prices.’
When Porter jokes about bankruptcy it’s with the gallows humour of someone who has been there. She slept on benches in Hampstead Heath when work dried up and she declared herself bankrupt in 2017. Her belongings were auctioned when she couldn’t afford to take them out of storage. ‘Sometimes I watch Storage Wars hoping I might spot my stuff!’ she chirps. Although returning to Edinburgh brings back difficult emotions, including grief over her mother’s death from breast cancer, she also looks forward to ‘going home’. 
‘Whenever I get off the train in Edinburgh, I know I will get a hug; from someone who works on the trains, a passenger, someone who went to school with such and such. It’s a Scottish thing. In London you get the folded-arms thing in comedy clubs. They sit there like, “make me laugh”. There’s nothing I’m afraid to cover in my show, I don’t care what people think. OK, I’m still a sensitive person, but if there are haters, that’s the nature of life. I’ve heard it all before and I have to take it on the chin.’
As someone who has been very public about episodes of bad mental health, Porter plans to avoid Edinburgh Festival crash-and-burn by swimming regularly and watching her beloved crime TV shows to relax. ‘I hope to have fun while I’m there and, of course, I’m looking forward to letting my hair down when it’s all over!’

Gail Porter: Hung, Drawn And Portered, Assembly George Square Studios, Wednesday 2 – Monday 28 August, 7pm.