Nothing is Off-Limits in ‘The Naughty Bits’
I must begin with a disclaimer: this review, like the show at its centre, contains an indecent number of genitalia references. You will come across polite terms, medical terms, euphemisms, nicknames, and metaphors you didn’t know existed (what even is an “Italian Snake”?) There’s simply no avoiding it. The Naughty Bits is, quite literally, about our bits, our complicated relationships with them, and the endless inventive names we’ve found to talk around them.
The one-person show is the brainchild of Don Randall, a former literature teacher with a natural stage presence. It begins with Randall’s own story of growing up in 1970s Alberta, discovering androgyny through Joel Grey in Cabaret, admiring David Bowie and Donovan, and encountering their first non-binary person. These personal recollections set up a wider exploration of gender identity, self and sexual expression, and the small details of daily life (including the “absolute chore” of shaving legs).
From there, The Naughty Bits shifts into a sort of etymological deep dive, where Randall’s inner teacher comes out. They guide the audience through the linguistic roots of “penis” and “vagina” and the cultural discomfort that led to our endless list of euphemisms. If anything, this show was educational for those with a special interest in the origins of honeypot, fanny, cock, dick, willy, johns… if you can think of it, Randall probably said it. I learned that the infamous c-word (originally the show’s title) predated ‘prick’ – which was popularized by Shakespeare – by a few centuries. Randall also throws in some stories that were slightly scandalous, but one should not attend a show called the Naughty Bits without expecting something at the edge of appropriateness.
The show’s strength is entirely in Randall’s personality and delivery. The humour doesn’t always land, but when it does, the laughs are loud. The looseness of the structure is also quite noticeable and does a disservice to an otherwise great concept. Randall often glances at a screen for prompts, which detracts from the flow and breaks their connection with the audience. Still, Fringe theatre has always embraced the scrappy and imperfect, and The Naughty Bits (in all its iterations) is no exception.
Visually, the production is as simple as it gets: there is a person and there is a mic stand. This leaves a certain intimacy, as if the audience has been invited into Randall’s classroom for an uncensored chat about private parts. Beyond the naughtier bits, Randall’s monologue also touches on the non-binary experience, aging, and the pursuit of personal freedom through clothing, makeup, and identity. By the end of the show, the room feels a bit less shy and more contemplative of our relationships with our schlongs and minges.
For me, The Naughty Bits is the kind of show that captures the spirit of Fringe: it is a bit messy, but it is driven by authenticity and a genuine desire to connect to people through stories, which it certainly does.
‘The Naughty Bits’ plays until August 15, 2025 at the Confederation Place Hotel in the TK Fringe as part of The Kick & Push Festival. More information about the festival can be found here.
