Edinburgh Fringe 2026
Huge Davies: Sleep Paralysis Princess
Huge Davies
Venue: Monkey Barrel Comedy
Festival: Edinburgh Fringe
Low Down
In a musically-stripped set, Huge Davies shows how powerful his comedy is when it’s spoken instead of sung.
Review
Huge Davies makes a bold pivot in Sleep Paralysis Princess, redefining what his show looks like, and shows off his stand-up chops. His famous musical elements came in a few short bursts, while his spoken storytelling took centre stage. For audiences, myself included, used to his deadpan synthesiser anthems, a departure from his music-led shows might initially seem like a gamble. Removing that musical safety net, however, shone a light on the cleverness of his language, laying it bare for the audience to hear.
From the moment he takes the stage, Davies reestablishes his distinct, hostile dynamic with the room. He commands attention like a stern teacher, imposing, unblinking, and utterly terrifying. Rather than charming the audience in the traditional stand-up sense, he harasses them with an abusive persona that keeps everyone on the edge of their seats. The enjoyment is up to you as the audience, not him as the performer. He reminds us that we chose to come, so whatever happens now is our problem. For many, it could be an uncomfortable situation. Although he went after audiences before, the musical interludes provided a reprise. Without their breathing space, Davies’ new show is a marathon in the truest sense.
The venue itself adds another layer of peculiar charm to the performance. Tucked away in a spooky, cramped basement at Monkey Barrel, the room could easily become an obstacle. Not for Davies! He leans into the awkwardness and the noise, musing at one point it was even on purpose. He uses the claustrophobia of the space to trap the audience inside his absurd world. A world you might desperately want to escape, but more likely want to go into even deeper.
What makes the show so compelling is how completely you buy into the character and into the story. Beneath the aggressive crowd work and bizarre premises lies a carefully thought-out piece of theatrical storytelling. Davies commits so fully to his strange, brooding persona that the manic energy and genuine disdain for, well, everything feels real. Every awkward interaction, strange monologue, and deliberate silence builds toward a singular goal.
When the climax finally arrives, the payoff is massive. All the disparate elements of hostility, awkwardness, and narrative tension collide in a moment of clear catharsis. It is not a show built on lighthearted whimsy or joyful banter, but on dark, relentless intensity that delivers laughter in its purest form. It stands out thus far as the hardest I’ve laughed all Fringe. Sleep Paralysis Princess proves that Huge Davies doesn’t need a song to dominate a room, just his presence is enough.
