August 7, 2025 
One4Review
Leicester comedian Kirsty Munro knows exactly how to set the mood. Within seconds, the lights are up, Natasha Bedingfield’s Unwritten is blasting, and the audience is singing like it’s 2004 and they’re already three cocktails deep. Subtle? Absolutely not. But utterly infectious — even the blokes are up dancing.Newly married to another comedian, Munro opens with the unexpected fringe benefits of having a wedding ring on her finger. From there, she dives into the origin story behind the show’s gloriously chaotic title: a night out with mates, two ill-advised slut drops, and a chicken burger that may or may not have saved her life. (Yes, she demonstrates what a slut drop is. No, she doesn’t hold back. Front row, consider this your health warning.)Munro’s the kind of performer who can read a room in seconds — and then make it hers. Her crowd work is sharp, warm and full of cheek. The Toxic Masculinity Zumba Class sketch is a standout — brilliantly daft physical comedy with a knowing wink — while her roleplay routine and riff on the military-level logistics of organising a hen do are both pitch-perfect, relatable, and executed with real comic precision.There’s also depth between the chaos. A thread on mental health — lived-in and authentic — is woven throughout, never shoehorned. It adds weight without tipping into earnestness, and gives the hour a shape beyond just jokes and jollies.Munro has the energy of the world’s best party host: bawdy, boisterous, welcoming to all, and always in charge. She knows exactly when to crank it up and when to pull back. The crowd adore her — and it’s easy to see why.This isn’t high art, and it doesn’t pretend to be. What it is, is the Fringe equivalent of an all-inclusive holiday: welcoming to everyone, generous to the senses, and full of chaotic joy. Like the moment you realise Nutella’s included in the breakfast buffet.Come for the slut drops, stay for the chicken burger. This is a hell of a lot of fun from a clever, confident comic who knows exactly what she’s doing — drawing from real experience and having a bloody good time doing it. And sometimes, a brain sorbet like this is exactly what the Edinburgh Fringe calls for. Click Here For Review