Jessica Fostekew’s partner may be a theatrical genius, but, says the stand-up and podcaster, her domestic skills need work. ‘She hangs washing like a toddler on her first go,’ says Fostekew of award-winning Scottish playwright Stef Smith. ‘A few items go on with care, then she gets bored and just tips the rest of the basket over the airer.’ Jess grins with loving exasperation. ‘She’s got a BAFTA. An Olivier. But the laundry? Absolute chaos.’

It’s this kind of everyday absurdity, tangled with emotional depth, that powers Fostekew’s latest show, Iconic Breath, which she describes as ‘a monster’s guide to tolerance and temperance’. It’s about inherited rage, reluctant kindness, and what happens when a woman with big feelings tries not to scream into the abyss; or failing that, into a prawn.

Yes, a prawn. Her father once had a full-blown meltdown over shell-on prawns in a restaurant in Italy, then returned nightly to repeat the tantrum with gusto. ‘He’s hilarious, generous and furious,’ Fostekew says. ‘He can take the most joyful situation and find something to absolutely obliterate his mood. Someone sneezed in another room once and it ruined his day.’ Fostekew’s father looms large in Iconic Breath, but so does her late nana, a calming counterpoint to his emotional pyrotechnics. ‘She was unshakable. Curious about difference. Positive without being fake. She brought me up, and after she died, I thought “I need to be more like her.”’ The show opens with a story that honours her nana’s gentle grit, a moment that shaped the comic’s entire philosophy.

So here Fostekew is, mid-life, mid-rage and mid-mission to understand the genetic and societal forces shaping her response to a world on fire. The show touches on motherhood, political polarisation, dolphin epiphanies, gym culture, inherited trauma, and the awkward optimism of WhatsApp groups, all with the ‘silliest comedy for the scariest of days’. Her writing is sharper than ever. ‘I’ve never worked this hard on a show,’ she admits. ‘Because I want to say something meaningful, but it’s got to be funny. That balance is the hardest it’s ever been.’

Fostekew has Fringe form. In 2019, her break-out show Hench earned her an Edinburgh Comedy Award nomination. Since then, she’s toured relentlessly, hosted The Guilty Feminist, written two series of Sturdy Girl Club for Radio 4, and appeared on Live At The Apollo, QI and World’s Most Dangerous Roads, where she nearly drove off a cliff in Colorado. Despite all this, she’s still not convinced she’s ‘made it’. Her ambition? ‘A Netflix special. Ideally something I’ve written and acted in, not as a tired mum or stern police officer, which is all I ever get cast as.’ She also dreams of more nuanced roles in longer stories. ‘The comedy I’m proudest of takes time. You can’t cram that into a 25-second clip.’

That resistance to digital attention spans hasn’t stopped her drawing a devoted audience. This year’s show will tour in 2026, ending in her hometown of Swanage; a prospect both thrilling and terrifying. ‘My dad might come. I’ll be onstage talking about all the weird things that have enraged him over the years. So, I’ve had to tell him he’s in it; interestingly, he thinks he’s mild-mannered.’

This emotional tightrope-walk is familiar territory. Like many performers, Fostekew doesn’t glide into the Fringe unscathed. ‘Every year my body freaks out. I’ve had rashes, hair loss, piles. This year it’s just a square millimetre of eczema, so we’re improving.’ Underneath the comedy lies a serious message: that tolerance is hard-earned. Especially when faced with grown men walking across a pedestrian crossing before the green man: a new irrational ick. Or long, unkempt nails (‘unpainted. Yellowing. I can’t cope’).

But Fostekew is also working on herself, and Iconic Breath is her accountability ledger. ‘I want to listen better. Really listen. Not to agree, not to argue, just to understand. My first lesson in tolerance? Shut up and listen. Even when someone says something that makes your skin crawl.’ A Netflix special may still be on the horizon. For now, Jessica Fostekew is busy holding a mirror up to the monster within, and trying, with laughter and love, to teach it to breathe.

Jessica Fostekew: Iconic Breath, Monkey Barrel, 11–24 August, 5.40pm.