I wondered if Duck was really meant to be a show called a four-letter word beginning with F, but had to be called something else on the grounds of public decency. I stand by this hypothesis, even if the show began and ended with comedy material about ducks, as facts and figures are included about other members of the non-human animal kingdom, most of which are about their sexual activity. The show is divided into chapters, each one named for an animal, and the show is essentially an autobiographical account of Morrison’s life to date. In his early thirties, he’s lived quite a life already, diagnosed with insulin dependent diabetes (there’s a glucose monitoring device attached to his person), and he spoke fondly of his late partner Jonathan.
His thoughts and ideas are logical and difficult to refute – that they are also amusing is, of course, pivotal to a comedy show. Take, for instance, people like him (categorically, gay men) by default causing family trees – adoptions, surrogacies and blended families (and so on) aside – to end. The caveats aren’t explored, but they do not need to be, because of the deeply personal nature of Morrison’s story: this is his world, and we are simply living in it.
His formative years comprised a minefield for comedy material in adulthood. Growing up in a Republican-supporting Jewish family, he knew he was gay fairly early on, a fact solidified by being attracted to the local rabbi. Briskly paced, it is for the audience to keep up with him – if they can. The rapport with the audience at the performance I attended was strong throughout. And he’s right about the futility of maintaining a muscular physique in the modern world: what practical use are huge biceps these days? Fascinating and funny in equal measure, Morrison’s high-octane energy hit the spot.
Review by Chris Omaweng
Sam deep-dives into life’s biggest questions. Have you heard of the Argentine Lake Duck, its 17-inch corkscrew penis, and what that means for how we understand our purpose in life? And who can forget the marsupial mice who have such intense, passionate, long-lasting sex that they ultimately disintegrate and die. Why the heck do humans insist on meaning at all with a God who clearly just got horny and lost the plot?
He questions why everything: his faith, his family’s Jewish ancestry, and why the systems meant to help us, organised religion, the therapy industrial complex, and Grindr – have never worked for him. In the space between the many facts and the structures that govern our existence, there must be a simpler way for us to live – but what does that even look like? Nerdy, chaotic, and deeply tender at heart, Duck is about how meaning can emerge not from understanding life, but simply surviving it.
SAM MORRISON: DUCK
Gilded Balloon Teviot at the Edinburgh Fringe
5 to 31 August 2026
