You ever wonder how many souls ended up in the same twisted circus tent as Ella Woods for the same delusional reasons I did? The story begins with me emerging from a soul-crushing breakfast experience at the godforsaken ‘Hemma,’ a joint in Edinburgh where I encountered a culinary beast that both amazed and left me paralyzed. As my pal and I embarked on a quest to fill a gaping void in our afternoon schedule, we desperately scoured the program for a glimmer of hope. Nothing stirred the murky waters of our hungover minds until, lo and behold, a name pierced through the haze – “Ella Woods”! I couldn’t quite recall where I’d heard it before, but it was enough for me to declare that this was the show we needed.

Tickets secured, we drowned our confusion in the liquid comforts of the ‘Just the Tonic’ bar, drowning our sorrows with fancy gin and engaging in a feverish game of Guess Who. That’s when it hit me like a bolt from the ether: it wasn’t Ella Woods I’d heard of, but Elle Woods – the character Reese Witherspoon famously donned in Legally Blonde! Refusing to admit either my blunder or the startling fact that I’d etched the characters of Legally Blonde into the annals of my mind, I pressed forward.

The Fancy Room at Just the Tonic, I must admit, is a sanctuary amidst the mad carnival of the Fringe – an oasis of authenticity and comfort in a desert of madness. A place I, in my erratic wanderings, had grown quite fond of.

And then, Ella, with an entrance that drew applause like a cult leader entering a gathering of fanatics, began a ritualistic shedding of her tracksuit, unveiling her gym attire – because this was a journey into the realm of sport, particularly the hallowed halls of P.E. class.

She regaled us with tales of domineering girls, modern-day gladiators, and her youthful trysts with sporting glory. These stories were interspersed with the slow striptease of gym apparel and the odd, out-of-place Gary Barlow impression that left us bewildered. If you happen to have a granny with an unquenchable thirst for X-Factor, this might just be the freak show she’s been waiting for.

Ella, I must say, is a well-oiled machine of a performer – a clown molded from the same twisted clay as Lucy Porter. She exudes charm, a coy demeanor that quickly captures the audience’s affection. Though unlike the mighty Lucy Porter, she hasn’t quite unleashed that seismic guffaw, but I sense it’s lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce.

The topic of women’s sports, a vast and deserving canvas, received its due spotlight in this show. Here at Clownster, we’re ardent supporters and aficionados of the field – from Fran Kirby’s creative brilliance in English football to pondering the NBA’s Top 20 point guards, where Sue Bird undoubtedly earns her mention. And let’s not forget the gritty, genuine bouts of Nicola Adams, infinitely superior to the over-the-top antics of the likes of Tyson Fury, David Haye, and Derek Chisora. Okay, folks, the ra-ra moment has had its run.

In closing, I fervently hope this clown sharpens her comedic blade further. I’d gladly roll the dice on witnessing her act again, and I implore anyone who revels in the lighter side of life to take a shot at experiencing her charms – even if she herself can’t quite make that shot from Wing Defence ;D

Clown Stars: * * *

@Just the Tonic at the Caves, Edinburgh