Somewhere in France there is a unicycle that ruined Tori Morancay’s childhood and, indirectly, launched her comedy career. She fell off it at twelve in front of a packed crowd, and has since decided nothing on a stand-up stage will ever come close to that level of humiliation. Bombing an open mic? Rookie numbers compared to a public unicycle death.
She escaped a law degree, worked three jobs just to bankroll a move to New York with zero contacts, and eventually built an entire debut hour, Le French c’est Freak, that’s part childhood trauma, part dating disaster, part deliberately disgusting bit she waits to unleash until the audience has earned it. One woman gagged out loud during a show. Tori took it as the highest compliment of her career.
A shy French teenager who fell off a unicycle in front of hundreds of people, escaped a law degree, and worked three jobs to afford the move to New York.
This isn’t your first time in Edinburgh, right?
I love Edinburgh. It’s my first time at the Fringe, but I visited the city a few years ago, not in August, so it was very different back then. It’s beautiful to see so many people here to perform and to see shows. I’ve never seen that before. This is my first Fringe, my first solo show. I’ve done previews of the show in New York and in Paris, but as far as festivals go, this is my first one.
And is it a stand-up act, or a one-woman play?
It’s like a stand-up one-woman show. Mostly stand-up.
So when was the first time you performed stand-up? Can you take us back to the beginning?
I always wanted to do stand-up, but then COVID happened, so I couldn’t really do it. I was living in LA at the time, and I took a solo trip to New York just to see if I’d like it better there. And I didn’t know anyone in New York. So I was like — I should just try an open mic, because nobody knows me. If I don’t do well, it’s totally fine. I really enjoyed it, and I did a bunch of them while I was on that trip. Then I went back to LA and worked three jobs just so I could afford moving to New York. I spent a year prepping, and then almost three years ago I finally moved, and I’ve been doing stand-up since.
And have you always done stand-up in English only, or in French too?
In English only, until June. I was in France for the month and I tried stand-up in French for the very first time. Not all of my jokes translate — some just won’t work, so I’d have to change things about them. It’s very different, but I like it. Next time I go back to France I’d like to do more in French, but I’m still more comfortable in English, even though it’s not my native language.
That’s interesting, that English is easier than your first language.
I think everyone has a different personality when they speak another language. The person I am when I speak French is a different person from the one I am when I speak English. In English it’s okay for me to make mistakes on stage, because it’s not my first language. But when I speak French I’m way more self-conscious about the words I say. It’s a little bit harder. I definitely want to do it more in French, though — maybe do the solo show in French.
This is your first full hour. How was the pressure of writing a complete one-hour show?
It was kind of a compilation of all the stand-up I’ve been doing over the last three years, but I reorganised all of it. It’s very biographical, since it’s about my life, but it’s in different parts. At first I talk about my childhood, then about my dating life, then about some more recent things that happened to me. So the hardest part was putting everything together. The material was things I’d had for a few years. And once I had it written out entirely, I was able to come up with more, because I knew what worked and what didn’t.
Do you remember getting your first laugh on stage?
I don’t have a specific memory of my first laugh. But I know that at my first open mic I didn’t tell anyone it was my first open mic. And I made some comic friends there who I’m still friends with, and it was really nice to see them grow over time and do my own thing too. It made me feel good about myself. I was like, I want to do this more. It’s very addictive to get a laugh. I want to have as many laughs as I can and really connect with the audience.
If Tori’s obsession with getting a laugh has you wondering what actually makes a joke land, the science of comic timing breaks down how pacing, pauses, rhythm, and audience reaction can turn a good joke into a great one.
And what was the first joke that killed on stage? Do you remember it?
I don’t do any of my very first jokes anymore. But I think the first one I came up with was something about baguettes, because I’m French — it was about comparing baguettes to d***s. So it’s very stupid, and looking back at it, it was not a good joke. But I think that’s the first joke that got me laughs.
But it’s a good depiction of your journey, right? You used to make jokes about baguettes and now you’re pulling a whole hour about your life.
Yes, exactly. It’s still the same theme of being French. But it has evolved since then.
So tell us more about the show, Le French c’est Freak.
It’s an autobiographical show about my life — about growing up in France, moving to America, making the wrong decisions when it comes to dating, or just making a lot of stupid choices in my life. And I talk about a lot of dark things that happened to me, and I try to make jokes about them too. It’s a way of processing everything that has happened to me, but without being like, oh, you should feel bad for me. It’s more that if something bad happened to you, you should be able to laugh about it and feel better eventually.
So is it just jokes, or can we expect a venting-out session too?
It’s mostly stand-up, but there are some parts that are a little deeper and more storytelling-like. And I do some physical comedy, but not too much. It’s very dark and deadpan. There’s some silliness to it. Very little, but a little bit.
So can we expect some shock value in the show? Some moments that catch the audience by surprise?
Probably. I mention some subjects that people don’t hear about every day. Last year, during one of the jokes I do in the show, a friend of mine was in the audience and the woman next to her gagged because of what I said. And that didn’t make me feel embarrassed. I was like — this is amazing. I’m provoking a reaction. And she was laughing the rest of the time. She wasn’t just gagging and shocked.
When you ignite a new emotion in the room other than laughter, the laughter that follows that emotion is different too.
Exactly. Even if what I say can disgust people sometimes, I’m still provoking a reaction, and something they can talk about and think about. That’s what I like. I like talking about subjects you’re not going to talk about with your friends — things you’d be too embarrassed to bring up.
And is there crowd interaction in the show?
Not really. There are some moments where I ask the crowd general questions that are very specific to some of the jokes I’m telling, but I’m not going to bring anyone on stage or anything. It’s more like, has anyone ever done this — and then if they have a similar experience, I’ll ask them about it. But it’s only a few moments.
How long have you been workshopping the show?
The idea came to me early last year, but the material is from years of doing stand-up. I really started working on it in the summer and autumn of last year, when I was seeing everyone at the Fringe and thinking, oh, this seems so amazing, this is where I want to be doing my first solo show. So I started prepping for the Fringe in about November, did my first preview in December, and I’ve been working on it and trying to make it as good as I can since.
And what was the best response you’ve had from an audience member about the show?
When people come up to me after and say, I related to that part so much, because it’s not something I usually tell people but I also think like that. I talk about my dating preferences, and an audience member in Paris last month told me she has the same type, and you never hear that — it’s great to hear someone finally talk about it. And I get a lot of people asking, this was great, but is everything true?
So is everything true?
It’s based on my life, so it is true. I do take some bits to the extreme sometimes, but I don’t make things up. Or it will be obvious when it’s an exaggerated version of it. Every premise is based on my real life.
Do you remember the toughest phase you had — when you were continuously bombing?
I used to be a very shy teenager, so I wasn’t always good at public speaking. The first year of stand-up was really me trying to get more comfortable on stage, just being able to talk into a microphone. And my accent can be a barrier sometimes — an obstacle. Sometimes, just to land a joke, I’d have to say it several times, just to make it understandable. When I first started I wouldn’t know exactly how to word it, and it took me several tries. It’s not as hard now.
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So how often did you do open mics to get the stage comfort you have now? And is New York a bit more lenient, or tougher?
If I wasn’t working, I was trying to get on stage every day. New York is amazing for open mics — you can do three to five a day if you’re really working at it, because there are so many every day. So it’s really the best city to do that, but also the harder city, because that’s where all the biggest comics move to. You’re competing with the top of the top. But you can only learn from it, so it’s good.
And how did LA compare?
I had a very short experience with the LA scene, because I was working so much that I didn’t have a lot of time for comedy. But from what I saw, it was more performers than writers. Most people in LA doing stand-up are doing it to get something else — they want to be an actor, they want to be a TV writer. In New York you see more people who are like, I want to do stand-up, this is what I want to do with my life. It’s a different style, but both have really good sides. That’s why I moved there. And also I hate driving, so New York was the only city I could move to.
And what was the best club or best room you’ve performed in, in New York?
My favourite was the one where I did my first preview show — it’s called The Slipper Room. Normally it’s a burlesque venue, so they mostly do burlesque rather than comedy. But it was so great. They have a chandelier, they have a balcony and everything. It made me feel like I was actually performing a real show. And that gave me a lot of confidence for the rest of the run. It fitted the vibe of my show a bit more than a regular comedy club would.
And do you remember opening for a headliner?
A comic I met at my very first open mic in New York — we stayed in contact, and then I opened for him last year. His name is Tyler Gross and he has a special on YouTube. It was great to go from doing my very first open mic and meeting him there, to opening for him. I haven’t opened for big, big names yet. But we’ll see, hopefully, in the future.
When was the first time your love for stand-up started? Not performing it — just knowing you liked this form and wanted to do it someday.
I studied something really different. I studied law in college, and I didn’t like it at all. I was like, I don’t want to make this my full-time job, this is just making me really depressed. So I was trying to find escapes, and I was watching a lot of TV shows, movies and stand-up. College was the first time I really started watching stand-up in English, because in France we’d see some on TV but never the American and British comics. And I was like, oh, this is great. Every year, doing an open mic would be in my New Year’s resolutions. But I didn’t do it until four years ago.
But coming from France — France has a very rich culture in Molière and clown school.
That is true. I actually did circus school when I was a teenager, and I talk about my experience of it in the show. It’s very different from stand-up, because we weren’t doing any clown, but our teacher was a clown. I learned juggling, unicycling, being on the trapeze. It’s a great way to be on stage, because I didn’t have to speak — I just had to perform.
And was that where you first bombed?
That was my first bombing, yes. My most embarrassing experience on stage was at the end-of-year show at circus school. I was opening the show with my friend, and while riding a unicycle in circles I fell off in front of hundreds of people. I was probably twelve or thirteen. I ran backstage and I cried, but then they told me it’s okay, you can keep going — and I still did the rest of the show. After having that experience so early on, I’m not really scared of bombing. Bombing is never going to be as bad as falling off a unicycle in front of hundreds of people.
But now that you’re a stand-up, you could turn falling off a unicycle into something funny.
Exactly. I haven’t been on a unicycle in ten years, but if I did fall now, I would try to make it funny and I would just laugh at it.
So is that the physical comedy part of your show, where you talk about your circus days?
I don’t have a lot of physical comedy during that part of the show. It’s more some acting out of situations that happened to me.
So can you name a few of the comics you started watching in English?
I watched a lot of Bill Burr and Jimmy Carr — they’re probably the first two I really started watching. And also Katherine Ryan. It was really inspiring to see other women do it, because growing up I had this idea that only men could do comedy. And I’ve always loved dark comedy, so I think that’s what drew me to it. If you’d asked me ten years ago, I’d have said I could never do that. That’s crazy.
It’s really difficult for someone that shy to talk about her life on stage — and not in an embarrassing way, but in a funny way.
Even people who knew me in middle school are always super surprised when they see that I do stand-up now, because I’m such a different person than I was ten years ago. It really helped me with talking to other people. I’m still an introvert, but when I’m on stage I feel like I’m a different person, and I have way more confidence talking to strangers in an audience than to someone at the supermarket. Especially when it comes to dark subjects — I feel way more comfortable saying it on stage, because the only reaction they can have is laughter. They’re not going to say, oh, I’m so sorry this happened to you.
So did any of your friends from middle school see your stand-up and have something to say?
Some of my friends have known me since kindergarten, and they’ve seen me grow over the years. They’ve seen that change in me, and they’re so proud when they see me. My friend told me recently that when she saw me on stage, she felt like a mom watching her kid.
And can we expect some French culture in the show as well?
I make fun of the French and French culture a lot. Mostly I make fun of myself and how I relate to some of the clichés about the French. And there are some references in the show that are very French, but I think they’re still big enough that people will understand, even if they don’t know anything about France.
I think it’s easier for people in the UK to understand French culture than it is in the US.
Definitely. In the US, the only things people know about the French are all the clichés, the negative things — that we’re rude, that we don’t wear deodorant, all that. In the UK we’re so close that a lot of British people have visited France before, so they still have some bad clichés about us, but they know our culture a little bit more.
And what other forms of entertainment do you love? TV shows, movies, plays?
I love musicals. I always wanted to do a musical, but I’m a terrible singer, so maybe I’d do musical comedy one day, we’ll see. I try to see as many Broadway shows as I can in New York, and while I was in London I saw some plays and musicals too. The last one I saw was Paddington, the musical, and I loved it, because Paddington is one of my favourite movies. It was so sweet to see that on stage — everybody just had stars in their eyes and it was so beautiful. And also Les Misérables, because as a French person I read it in middle school, so I know the story, and hearing it sung by talented people was incredible.
And your favourite song from Les Misérables?
My favourite is On My Own. I used to sing that all the time whenever my parents weren’t home. It’s just so emotional.
Mine is Do You Hear the People Sing.
Every time I listen to that song, I feel a sense of community, even if I’m listening to it by myself. I’m like, well, we’re stronger together. And it’s so beautiful.
And what’s your favourite part about the show?
I don’t have one specific favourite part, but there are some bits I really enjoy doing. Some of them are pretty gross and disgusting, and I do those later on in the show, once I’ve already gained the audience’s attention. So I know that at that stage of the show I can talk about it — if it was something I started with, I don’t know if it would go as well. If you just told those bits without any context, people would say, this is just gross and disgusting. But since they have the context, they’ve heard about my childhood and things I’ve done as a teenager, they’re like — oh, that explains it so much.
And is there anything you want to say to your followers?
If you’re in Edinburgh, come to the show. I would love to meet as many people as I can. And you don’t have to know about French culture to enjoy it. It’s about being French, but you won’t get lost if you don’t know anything about France.
Le French c’est Freak — Theatre 2, theSpace @ Surgeons’ Hall, 7–22 August 2026. Written and performed by Tori Morancay.
Tori Morancay went from falling off a unicycle at twelve to making grown adults gag out loud at her jokes, and somehow both feel like the same skill just aimed in a better direction. If circus school taught her anything, it’s that the show goes on even after you’ve eaten the floor in front of a crowd, and stand-up, by comparison, is basically a vacation.
Catch Le French c’est Freak at the Fringe through August 22nd if you’re in Edinburgh. No French required, no unicycle skills necessary, just a willingness to sit through some gross bits she’s absolutely earned the right to tell.
If you liked hearing how a circus-school flop turned into full-blown stage confidence, Rebecca Wolf also traces her weirdest instincts straight back to clown class, just with a pig costume instead of a unicycle.