Members of Kyla Cobbler’s fanbase, aka her “parish,” are buzzing, the room prepped and ready-made for the raucous laughter she’s about to unleash in her solo Gone Rogue. Kyla needs no introduction nor context; the crowd already religiously watches her life on social media and knows her as their friend and giggle guru. She begins the show with the obvious question, “So, how long have you followed me online?”
Kyla is aware of her online presence but makes it very clear that she is so much more. Her magic transcends beyond reels and Instagram stories. She wastes no time furiously jumping into crowdwork, accusing a lone man of being a spy when she says, “What are you doing at my show, wh–e?” Most of the audience members are women, it’s true, but Kyla’s comedy goes beyond the female experience. She playfully teases the crowd, calling out an audience member with, “a massive vag and a great giggle,,” and donning other people with pet names like “old bastard” and “wh–e.” It’s not until thirty-five minutes in when she looks at her watch and exclaims “Oh s–t, I better start the show!”
The next part, though “on book”, still breathes the same air of controlled chaos and banter as Kyla talks about being a woman in a male-dominated field, ovulation, latino men, and of course, nipple hair. But Kyla can’t stick to the script for long; she bounces between monologue, crowdwork, and observation, a trifecta of comedy gold that invites everyone in the room along for a ride. Through masterful storytelling, clever callbacks, and a healthy dose of self deprecation, the audience is let in on the secrets of Irish mating rituals, the horrors of reverse cowgirl, and the origin story of doggystyle.
Kyla’s comedy is sharp, unscripted, and as unpredictable as the rain in Scottish summer. And she has indeed gone rogue.
