In a dimly lit bunker, our hero begins her quest to find the perfect two-piece suit. And so the audience are invited along on Sam Nicoresti’s transitional, transgender and occasionally transcendental experience of living. The punches fly early, filthy jokes served ice cold as Nicoresti prowls around the stage in a velvet-brown skirt-suit, taking up every inch of space available to her. She introduces herself as a ‘shit woman’ (the Duolingo version: great in her bedroom, can’t navigate a conversation IRL), but incredible at being trans.

Nicoresti is also an incredible comedian. There’s not an ounce of hesitation; her rapid-fire monologue flows in a quick northern patter that makes it sound like she’s slamming her cousins round the dinner table, not performing a sell-out gig at the Edinburgh Fringe. A nightmarish scene in a TK Maxx changing room has the audience sweating along with her; a clever subversion of transphobic fears (public masturbation, no less) makes them roar: ‘oh, but you keep laughing at it!’ she teases. They are noticeably hungry for her stories, egging her on. ‘Don’t clap at the puns, girl’, she scolds one over-enthusiastic audience member. 

The monologue is nuanced, self-deprecating, dirty, creative and accomplished. This isn’t the phoenix-from-the-ashes trans narrative, it’s a rich, complicated story of being human: drug-fuelled post-traumatic stress, neurodiversity, believing in magic, family dynamics (what do you call a non-binary aunt or uncle?), and a tender love story. Much like Sam Nicoresti and her foray into skin-tight dressing, this show is bursting beautifully at the seams. 

Sam Nicoresti: Baby Doomer, Pleasance Courtyard, until 24 August, 5.40pm; plus 15 August, 8.20pm; Summerhall, 13 August, 3.40pm.