Blame Phoebe Waller-Bridge for the all-pervasive notion of ‘a breakout Fringe’: the idea that three short weeks in Edinburgh can dramatically transform a performer’s life. While the dream no doubt keeps the keen and green pitching their metaphorical (and sometimes actual) tents, a somewhat more achievable, though undoubtedly less sexy goal is a Fringe where a few good things happen and a performer starts to get a little bit of traction.

Enter Marjolein Robertson, fresh from a successful run of her stand-up hour Marj, a lauded turn in Raymond Friel’s one-person play Me, Myself And Mary (Queen Of Scots), plus a few sessions spinning tales at the Scottish Storytelling Centre, just to keep things interesting. ‘It’s the best month of the year,’ she says. ‘You always get people saying, “how’s your Fringe going, are you looking forward to getting a rest at the end?” and I’m like, “no, I don’t want it to end!” But I was fortunate to have a Fringe where I was getting good audience numbers and I was enjoying my show, and I also had the play and the storytelling. It’s a dream: but the best part of it is that you just get to go and do what you want to do every day for an hour and bring people into your story. It’s magic.’ 

Anyone who has seen Robertson perform inevitably remarks on her love of storytelling. When asked if that’s the product of her Shetland upbringing, she’s delighted to delve into the oral tradition she grew up with, generously dismissing fears that this question itself is based on island-lore stereotypes. ‘No! I love that question, because when we’re raised in Shetland, especially being raised in the middle of nowhere, our folk creatures are everywhere…there are always stories like, “watch oot for this and that creature”. Magic is ingrained and there are so many different bonny and beautiful creatures.’

While the pull of the central belt (and London) is strong for any aspiring performer, Robertson remains resolutely Shetland-based, citing the power of the internet to help comedians connect with (and grow) an audience, wherever they are. But what about material? Is there much to write about in a place where, well, not much happens? ‘I love Shetland with all my heart. If it wasn’t for comedy, I probably would never leave. I love the nature and the community and the way of life. But it’s not quiet. There are people at your hoose all the time. I don’t get peace. Last night three folk turned up and I ended up helping with their sheep.’

Ah yes, the sheep. When scheduling this interview, Robertson said she’d confirm depending on the weather because she needed to work her sheep before a planned visit to London. When it’s suggested this isn’t quite a standard response to an interview request, she bursts out laughing. ‘I made a little bit of money this Fringe; I was really fortunate to be on at The Stand where you don’t make a loss, and my comedian friends are off on holiday or buying new clothes. I came home and the brakes on my car went and a pipe burst in my hame. But to treat myself, I bought some plants, so I was planting up this wee section when my cousins arrived last night and I was like, “the sheep will eat this in two seconds” so I put them in the crö [sheep pen] and helped them do their work.’

It would be a mistake, however, to dismiss Robertson as some sort of manic pixie Shetlander. Notably, with no agent or manager behind her, she generates bookings herself and clearly obsesses over comedy in all its forms, quick to namecheck peers she admires and dissect styles and formats. She’s already started writing her next hour and spends much of her time travelling around to try out new material. ‘You spend your year writing the show during the day, going to open-mic nights to try material. There are days and evenings of work no one sees.’

Marj covered some difficult and personal subject matter (although ultimately with a joyful conclusion). ‘There was not one time on stage this Fringe where I didn’t get upset. I cried for basically 41 hours. I tried to write that show last year but I couldn’t do it; I wasn’t there emotionally, and I hadn’t looked on the situation and truly understood it yet.’ It’s a message she wants to share further, with hopes to take the show on tour. 

But before that, a headlining gala to launch Leith Comedy Festival beckons. ‘It’s amazing that they’ve put this on. I think Leith is such a strong community. I don’t know if it’s the Shetland in me, but every community deserves to have their own events that they can put their stamp on and have on their own doorstep. And you know, I love the Fringe because I’m gigging every day and I know what I’m doing, so to get booked in for this was a dream because you’ve got something really fun to look forward to.’

So, was this her fabled ‘breakout Fringe’? ‘I just really want to keep doing stand-up, tour Marj if I can, and develop some of these scripted comedy ideas that I’m working on whenever I get the chance between sheep work.’ Marjolein Robertson is keeping it real, but you do get the feeling the sheep will be pining for her attention before too long.

Leith Comedy Festival, various venues, Edinburgh, Friday 6–Sunday 8 October; Opening Night Gala, Leith Arches, Edinburgh, Friday 6 October.