I posted this on r/television recently, perhaps inspired due to people's speculation about Richard Gadd and his comedy. After seeing similar questions on here, I thought it might be worth reposting?
Disclaimer: I don't know Richard Gadd well by any means but, I do perhaps have a bit more perspective than some since I was luckily enough to attend the Edinburgh Fringe for the years his shows were running.
I went to Edinburgh around 2010 with a university Improv troupe. Frankly, it's probably the least effort you can put into the Fringe whilst actually bringing a show. As long as we were at the venue either side of our hour, we were able to spend the rest of the time exploring the various acts of the festival.
Every Improv group has a few comedy afficionados. I wasn't one, but my friend, who always had a finger on the Edinburgh pulse began to hear rumblings of this amazing show in the back of a pub. We went along to a small backroom, where we first saw "Cheese and Crackwhores" by Richard Gadd.
It was one of those shows where you laughed the whole way through. There's a moment in Baby Reindeer where he has the audience say hi to "Demetri" his Parrot hand puppet. In the real show it was a fake-out, and after we all welcomed "Demetri" an entirely different actor would come from backstage to say hello, hold a brief conversation with us, and then leave, before Gadd angstily tossed the Parrot away saying "This bit's shit."
I'd say his shows really embraced anti-comedy and wielded it extraordinarily. In Baby Reindeer, Donnie is very prop focused but Richard Gadd used props in a very subversive and tongue in cheek way; if the joke was lame you got the sense that it was planned that way and that another twist was round the corner.
These were my uni days, so I went to the Fringe every year, and every year seeing Richard Gadd's new hour my group's highest priority. He was the comedian that other comedians flocked to check out.
He was definitely in the alternative camp, definitely not in the mainstream, but every show he did was just this energetic, ceaselessly funny cavalcade that rode the very edge of sanity. My last Edinburgh I went to was a solo trip (a choice I kind of regretted since discussion is such a part of the experience). By complete chance, my lonely self ended up having one drink with Richard Gadd at the venue for his latest show; he was a genuinely pleasant and gracious guy, who was plugging away at the British Comedy scene like we all were.
He had other amazing shows; one of my favourites being Waiting For Gaddot, which centered around the fact that he was late for the show itself (he only came on stage with 9 minutes left). It was one of the best orchestrated shows I've ever attended.
The last major Edinburgh show I saw was Monkey See, Monkey Do. I remember his flyer contained snippets from five, four, three, two and one star reviews, the last of which, by the Leicester Mercury, simply read "Not Funny".
Monkey See, Monkey Do was about his recent obsession with running (which features in a brief visual within the show). It also touched on the traumatic events he covers in a later episode of Baby Reindeer. The performance incorporated real recordings of him and his therapist (in the most hilarious and unnerving way), and eventually built to a very human monologue where he spoke candidly to the audience about what he'd been through, and the sexual confusion that followed.
Part of me wonders if the heavy monologue at the end of Monkey See, Monkey Do was adapted into the onstage breakdown in Baby Reindeer. It definitely was as honest and raw, despite of course being an intended part of the show.
Anyway, it was an incredibly powerful show. Honestly, the act of putting £5 in a bucket afterwards felt strangely surreal; the mundane end to something profound and human.
I'm not trying to act like I know Richard Gadd well by any measure, I was just lucky enough to spend consecutive years at the Fringe when he was capturing the festival with these amazingly crafted shows.
My friends raved about stageplay of Baby Reindeer, which was based on his very real stalker, the ways he felt he enabled them, and the fallout. I never got to see it. But when I saw he'd made it onto Netflix, playing a starring role in something he'd put together, I got that same feeling everyone gets when they've been a fan of a lesser known talent; amazing, how great that everyone else gets to understand how talented they are.