Kate Cheka / Raul Kohli - Bobby Carroll's Live Comedy Diary

Written by: Bobby Carroll
Published: Wednesday 25th June 2025

Biracial, queer, feminist and socialist. Sounds to me like a voice we'll want to totally lean into. Give full heart and wide open eyes attention to. Kate Cheka wants revolution in the streets and has little truck for previous white saviours. Her current tour show A Messiah Comes is part sex positive autobiography and part character assassination of anyone who tried to change the world for their own ego stroke. There is energy, sincerity and an endearing naivety. In her best moments she reminds me of the awesome Jess Fostekew and that bear hug enthusiasm never flags.

The political content, which is fused to the very spine of the hour, is awkwardly wishy washy and basic. Echo chamber takes with unchallenging punchlines. She takes regular swipes at men and white people and straight fuckers but never really checks her own privilege which is screamingly apparent from every life experience tidbit she reveals. Sleepovers at Bob Geldof's house, Glastonbury drumming circles and the globetrotting art life? A little galling, and the room, somewhat understandably, didn't bite.

Where the naturally appealing Cheka does shine, though, is in her audience interactions. She is curious and indulgent to any response she lifts out of us. The highlights of the show were her getting lost in impromptu lessons about the big bad world from her Edinburgh crowd. Fewer assumptions, a smidge more self-awareness and... well... let's give her plenty of time and space and platforms to develop?

Raul Kohli is a Geordie grafter. A constant presence on the UK club circuit over the past decade, whose name will be attached to at least four Edinburgh Fringe hours every August, and has been paid to ply his trade in more far flung countries than you could identify on Worldle. He has put his time in, put his miles in, put his air miles in, and if only he hadn't quit Hindi lessons to go see Newcastle United as a kid he would probably right now be a megastar on the popping Indian circuit.

His lauded tour show, Raul Britannia (previously Edinburgh ISH nominated), sees Kohli explore both his Indian heritage and his sense of belonging in England. Playing neither to the woke market nor the right wing niche, he argues that the way race in the UK is painted by rentagobs on either extreme rarely reflects the people he encounters in his daily life. He doesn't shy away from experiences of racism he has endured, or the ironies of British national identity, but he prefers to focus on the quiet champions of acceptance he knew growing up. Those whose actions went way beyond casual tolerance. He even posits that some of the everyday heroes who became key parts of his Nineties childhood could only come from a post-colonial, post-World War British melting pot. It might not be a headline grabbing take but it is a refreshing one. Organic and worn in.

Kohli offers us rich profiles of those who shaped him. His family. His unlikely Pakistani best mate, who allows him to explore his older generations' own rifts and prejudices. A Heaton WWII veteran is an idyllic figure making welcoming overtures to the new local shopkeepers. And introducing a pre-teen Kohli to the buzz of watching footie at St James' Park. While Kohli is offering examples that go against the grain of prejudice he is also adept at littering his stories with historical footnotes. Want a précis of what happened at the Battle of Culloden, or why Geordies are so named, then Kohli is your man. I did a history master's degree and doubt I could spin out off-the-cuff single sentence historical context like Kohli does ever so casually.

A sledgehammer jester, Kohli has come up through the weekend circuit and it would be fair to say his actual jokes lack nuance. They are familiar, effective and impactful. This is a punchline driven show and he'll rarely power serve a lob without knowing exactly where it will land. There is risk taking, though. The final stretch reaches a dark point and did feel like an impassioned sermon actually because of Kohli's battle hardened on-the-mic chops. As the weight of experienced racism weighs heavily on him I wasn't sure how he was going to bring it back to laughs. I had every faith he was building to a big joke but I couldn't predict which callback was going to be the "magic bullet" to assassinate the messaging.

Before the tour show proper, Kohli did about 40 minutes of generous crowd work. The Stand audience was very international and there were almost too many human curveballs in the front row. A taciturn Polish AI programmer looking for arguments. A middle-aged couple from Australia resettling in Scotland, sloth-like in their replies. A financial advisor absolutely off his nut and with three different drinks permanently in front of him. I happened upon that guy doing a little dance to himself in The Stand stairwell just before we started. The music was in his head. Kohli performed a sort of extended on-stage passport control with all of them. Vetting them, bringing them in. Maybe gifting them a little too much freedom. He is warm, and alive in his banter. The fact the hour of scripted material sang to such a disparate bunch is a testament to his walloping craft and comedic strengths. His skill and sensibilities mean you could place him in any (English speaking) room around the globe and he will flourish. God save the Kohli!