It is still only April and chilly outside, but there is already heated debate about August’s Edinburgh Festival Fringe. The problem is the escalating cost of accommodation. A one-month Fringe stay has never come cheap, but for the hundreds of comedians hoping to head up there to hone their craft and maybe even be talent-spotted, the costs really are no laughing matter.
Jason Manford prompted a discussion on X, formerly Twitter: "Edinburgh Festival prices are an absolute joke! No idea how anyone starting out is managing to get up there and showcase their talents! I’ve just priced up a week and even if every show sells out, I’m still operating at a loss....My worry is how are we getting to see new performers and hearing new voices if the only people who can do it are people with money or backing! It’s pure greed!"
Broadcaster Gail Porter, who made her Fringe debut in 2023 chipped in too: "Was so excited to go the @edfringe this year. But I have been priced out by the soaring costs of B&Bs. My home town. I feel so sorry for new young performers that won’t be able to afford accommodation. I’m gutted Edinburgh has done this. Greed is awful."
It is more complicated than just greedy landlords though. New City Council rules on letting, criticised by many, and a clampdown on Airbnbs, have cut the accommodation available, driving prices up. I usually stay on my own and did just find something on Airbnb for £3531. Exorbitant but not the worst I've heard about. Except that it was a camper van. And not even parked in the city.
There is some help for performers from the Fringe Society in the form of the Keep It Fringe Fund, but Edinburgh is in danger of becoming out of reach for new acts. Richard Herring posted on X: "Edinburgh was so important in my career but no way could I have afforded it if it was as prohibitively expensive as it is now. And what kind of people (who don’t already live there) can afford to come and watch stuff nowadays?"
As if it wasn't glaringly obvious already, a life in the arts is becoming increasingly challenging for anyone who doesn't have financial help, usually in the form of wealthy parents. As if being saddled with student loan debt isn't bad enough, how on earth can anyone without a supportive safety net also bear the costs of taking a show to Edinburgh? Fringe participation is increasingly becoming a class issue – another barrier to many hoping for arts careers.
Of course, people still find a way in the hope of being discovered. And it does happen. Look at the past successes of Lee Evans or Frank Skinner, who used his entire meagre life savings to fund his run. Though you'd need more than meagre life savings these days. It probably cost fast-rising 2022 Edinburgh Comedy Award winner Sam Campbell more. There might be a school of thought that online success is a comedy career shortcut – and it can be – but producers and commissioners still pay heaps of attention to what goes on in the Scottish capital each summer.
As for journalists covering the Fringe, we are part of the Fringe eco-system – I like to think an essential part – and also have to find affordable accommodation, with newspapers across the board cutting budgets as well as coverage. I've come to Edinburgh every year since 1991 (even in 2020 when there was only one show – Nathan Cassidy in the Three Sisters beer garden, he got plenty of mileage out of my "best show of the Fringe" quote). In the 1990s I used to stay in an immaculate Georgian townhouse when I worked for Time Out. In recent years I've stayed in shared student digs and then only thanks to Fringe support.
And of course accommodation isn't just expensive for performers and media. It's expensive for audiences too. Which is such a shame because tickets for shows are very affordable and there are plenty of very good shows where you can pay what you want. But you have to be there to see them. Could this be the year that attendances, that pump so much money into the Edinburgh economy, drop dramatically?
It's a shame things are so tough because the Fringe has always been a fantastic experience. I've rarely had a bad time once I've found somewhere to stay. Although I did finally succumb to Covid during the 2022 Fringe and in 2023 the cleaners dumped all my clothes in the bin, thinking I'd checked out and didn't want them. I know I sometimes wear ripped jeans but that's a fashion statement.
There are still plenty of positives to the Fringe. If only the accommodation could be sorted out. Some have said build a temporary structure on the Meadows for all performers. Others have said that the Fringe Society, which received a large post-Covid grant, should buy up property so that they can offer more subsidised beds. If I'd known I was going to spend a month in Edinburgh every year for over three decades maybe I should have bought somewhere myself.
Who knows what will happen? But despite all the threats, from stay-at-home online gigs to overpriced rents, somehow I've got a feeling the Fringe will continue. It may have to evolve but it will not die. And do you know what gives me the most hope? About two decades ago I wrote an article about the Fringe getting too big. And accommodation getting too expensive. At the time it was probably a fraction of the size it is today. The headline was 'Could this be the year that the Edinburgh Fringe bubble finally bursts?' It didn't burst then. I doubt if it will burst now.
