Archive for Theatre

Abhorrent Little Scrotum – Edinburgh Fringe Review

Fragen Network’s Abhorrent Little Scrotum is a surreal, darkly comic cyber-thriller that slips between physical theatre, psychological depth, and the destabilising hum of digital disorientation. It’s a tight, intense piece that asks what happens when technology not only rewrites reality, but rewires the self.

We meet Jack, a hacker in freefall after a personal collapse, who dives into “The Experience”—a shifting, hallucinatory mindscape—to save her friend Dari (Angel Lopez-Silva) from a mental virus. The rescue mission is part friendship, part obsession. Dari’s grip on reality is slipping, but so is Jack’s. As the hunt deepens, what’s real, what’s virtual, and what’s imagined blur until they’re indistinguishable. The piece thrives on this instability, using movement, sound, and fractured dialogue to immerse the audience in a space where betrayal feels inevitable and identity is never fixed. Some of the physicality is deliberately unsettling—stabbing, strangulation, and sudden bursts of violence punctuate the action, reinforcing the sense of threat and instability.

The tone is part neo-noir cyberpunk fever dream, part intimate character study. Fragen Network’s trademark high-energy movement and razor wit—seen in Blush of Dogs and Hell Yes I’m Tough Enough—is sharpened here into something more personal. It’s a complex, demanding show that requires the audience to think hard about what it’s depicting. At times it’s more thought-provoking than entertaining, and its ambiguity will frustrate some while fascinating others. The performers are an ensemble cast, the role of Dari is performed by Anastasiya Zinovieva. ,Angel Lopez-Silva plays Brittl Hardware, who is working with Jack (whose alter-ego Herbert is helping him get into the Experience, played by Zaza Bagley. They deliver layered, committed performances that ground the surreal visuals and shifting realities in raw, emotional truth. This is theatre that keeps you guessing—sometimes uncomfortably so—long after you’ve left the theatre

Reviewed by Pat Harrington

More information and tickets here

Read our interview with the Director, Roland Reynolds here

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Exploring the Spiritual Depth of Mayuri Bhandari’s Performance

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The Anti-Yogi reviewed 510 words, 3 minutes read time.

Mayuri Bhandari’s latest performance is part rallying cry, part spiritual challenge, and wholly engaging theatre. It does far more than showcase yoga as a physical practice—it digs deep into its philosophical roots, confronting the audience with uncomfortable but necessary questions. Bhandari places the principles of truthfulness and non-violence at the centre, not as abstract ideals but as urgent, living demands. She challenges us to consider whether these tenets survive intact in their Western incarnations, or whether they have been compromised, commodified, and stripped of their original depth. Her presence on stage radiates conviction, making it impossible to leave without questioning our own relationship to authenticity.

A digital artwork depicting a half-human, half-deity figure that merges elements of a woman and the goddess Kali, showcasing the duality of beauty and power. The left side features a human face with Indian jewelry, while the right side represents Kali with a blue skin tone and traditional adornments against a fiery background.

From the opening moments, it is clear that physicality is at the heart of this work. Bhandari moves with an astonishing blend of grace and power—one moment her gestures are fluid, almost meditative; the next, they are sharp, deliberate, and charged with the energy of Kali herself. Her dance is not simply a visual accompaniment to her words but an extension of them, embodying themes of resistance, destruction, and renewal. She engages the audience not just with what she says but with what she shows us through her body—every pose, turn, and gaze is deliberate, rooted in centuries-old traditions yet alive with contemporary urgency.

The live percussion from Neel Agrawal gives the performance an additional pulse—sometimes steady and grounding, sometimes urgent and insistent. His drumming doesn’t dominate; it listens and responds. There’s a visible and unspoken rapport between him and Bhandari, each reading the other’s energy in real time. This connection creates a sense of ritual unfolding before our eyes, where sound and movement merge into a single, living language. The rhythms carry the audience through the performance’s shifting emotional landscapes, from moments of fierce defiance to quiet, reflective stillness.

Traditional Indian elements are woven throughout, not as decorative tokens but as integral to the narrative. Reflections on Kali’s role in social justice give the work both gravitas and edge, allowing Bhandari to explore the goddess’s dual nature as destroyer and liberator. She uses this to confront the contradictions in how yoga is practised and sold in the West—how a tradition that calls for selflessness can become a lifestyle brand; how a path to liberation can be packaged in Lululemon bags. Humour cuts through the intensity at just the right moments, never diluting the message but reminding us that joy and resistance can coexist.

By the final moments, the audience has not only been entertained but invited into a process of reflection—about cultural appropriation, decolonisation, and the kinds of communities we wish to build. Bhandari’s performance is both a call to action and an act of preservation, reclaiming yoga’s ethos from the grip of commercialism and returning it to a place of depth, integrity, and connection. It’s a reminder that yoga’s truest form is less about the mat beneath your feet and more about how you move through the world once you step away from it.

Reviewed by Pat Harrington

You can find more information and buy tickets here

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‘What If We Did?’ A Satirical Take on Modern Politics

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Minotaur Theatre Company’s I’m Not Saying We Should, But What If We Did? grabs its audience by the lapels from the opening moments and doesn’t let go for its brisk 50-minute run. On the surface, it’s a playful absurdist comedy about two aspiring leaders, Maud and Agnes, who appear on a Saturday night chat show to announce a radical proposal: banning men. But beneath the smeared lipstick, slapstick chaos, and clownish costumes lies a sharply observed critique of modern politics, the cult of personality, and the media’s role in amplifying both.

Two women in white dresses performing energetically on chairs in a theatrical setting, symbolizing a playful and chaotic atmosphere.

The dialogue is fast, layered, and deliberately overlapping – a rhythm that mimics real television panel shows and talk radio debates, where wit and dominance are measured in how quickly you can jump in before someone else. This choice, far from being a gimmick, intensifies the realism and keeps the pace electric. It’s a device that works hand-in-hand with the satire: in a world where soundbites and spectacle win over reasoned argument, Maud and Agnes thrive, escalating their proposals into a carnival of half-serious policies and performative outrage. The absurdist flashbacks punctuate the action, deepening the comedy while underlining the dangerous slipperiness of populist rhetoric.

By the time the show descends into drenched mayhem – the physical embodiment of their spiralling ideas – the audience has been taken on a journey that’s as unsettling as it is entertaining. The parallels to contemporary politics are impossible to miss: when celebrity leaders can be voted into power on a mix of bravado, charm, and absurd promises, how far-fetched is the notion that a pair of clown-painted activists could capture the public imagination? It’s satire with bite, performed with fearless energy. For anyone interested in how spectacle can distort democracy, this is a smart, funny, and uncomfortably relevant watch.

Reviewed by Pat Harrington

More information and tickets here

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Echoes of Nüwa: A Chilling Reflection on Humanity’s Flaws

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Echoes of Nüwa: The Last Human Project
theSpace Triplex (Studio), 10:00 daily until 23 August
50 mins | Devised storytelling | Muddy Lolos (Chia-Yi Chan, Jinyu Dan, Qianyi Wang) 442 words, 2 minutes read time.

When the Chinese Goddess Nüwa first shaped humanity from clay, she believed joy and harmony would flow forever. Armed with five-coloured stones, she repaired the shattered sky and staved off the great Catastrophe—certain her work was done. Yet millennia later, humanity’s own greed and rage led to its undoing, and Nüwa never returned. Instead, she left behind her three devoted minions, the Muddy Lolos, to reclaim her promise and refashion humankind from mud and memory.

A collage featuring a woman expressing various emotions, with images of figures in water and the text 'Echoes of Nüwa: The Last Human Project' prominently displayed.

In this subtle retelling, Chan, Dan and Wang become both sculptors and chroniclers. Each human prototype is born in their hands—first infused with desire, then anger, then imagination—only to reveal that every gift carries its shadow. Desire blooms into jealousy and unrest; anger ignites cycles of violence; imagination births both wonder and illusion. With each experiment, the question deepens: how do we build leaders who serve rather than subjugate?

The power of Echoes of Nüwa lies in its deliberate sparseness. A handful of stones, a swath of earth-coloured fabric, and three bodies in communion are all that’s needed. Through delicately calibrated movement, the performers summon entire courts of tyrants and trenches of rebellion. Their faces speak volumes—eyes widening in hope, brows furrowing in dread, lips parting in hesitant resolve—reminding us that emotion is the raw material of history.

War and greed pulse at the piece’s core, manifesting in sudden bursts of choreography that crackle with tension. A raised fist and a sharp pivot can conjure battle lines; a hesitant hand reaching for more clay summons the glimmer of avarice. Yet the Muddy Lolos never slip into didacticism. Instead, they hold a mirror to our own impulses, inviting us to witness how the lust for power fractures community and how cycles of violence echo across time.

By the final tableau, the studio feels sacred—a space both mournful and expectant. The Muddy Lolos stand among scattered mud figures, their shoulders heavy with the weight of failure and possibility. Nüwa’s absent voice resonates in the silence: can we undo our worst instincts and craft a future worthy of repair?

This is more than a show; it’s an elegy and a challenge. With minimal artifice and maximal heart, Echoes of Nüwa asks us to confront our compulsion toward greed and tyranny—and dares us to imagine another way.

Would you like a capsule version for listings or social media? I can distil these ideas while preserving their emotional core.

Reviewed by Pat Harrington

More information and tickets here

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Sauna Boy – Behind the Steam

Sauna Boy at the Edinburgh Fringe 2025: 391 words, 2 minutes read time.

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Dan Ireland-Reeves’s Sauna Boy plunges us into a world most audiences will never see – the UK’s most successful (and infamous) gay sauna – and does so with a blend of humour, tenderness, and hard truths. The setting isn’t just a backdrop for risqué laughs; it’s a place of work, a community hub, and a stage for both human warmth and ruthless exploitation. Ireland-Reeves, a multi-award-winning writer and performer, draws on his own experience to guide us through this hidden world. The result is a semi-autobiographical 70-minute show that pulses with the same frenetic energy as its soundtrack, while never losing sight of the characters’ humanity.

A digitally created image of a muscular man standing in a doorway illuminated with pink neon lights, wearing a white towel, suggesting themes of intimacy and allure.

As “Danny Boy,” he begins in the lowest-paid roles – cleaner, receptionist – before rising to manager. Along the way, we meet the staff and regulars, each rendered with quick, knowing sketches and pitch-perfect impressions. There’s “Mother,” the manipulative and somewhat callous sauna owner, ruling with a mix of faux-care and quiet menace. There’s Chase, a colleague and friend, whose fate provides one of the show’s most painful moments when Danny is told to fire him. And there’s a cast of clients, from the likeable and desireable to the obnoxious, each forming part of the sauna’s shared history and strange camaraderie. Ireland-Reeves’s knack for switching between voices and physicalities is so deft that you feel you’ve met these people yourself.

For all the comedy – and there’s plenty, from awkward encounters to laugh-out-loud “behind-the-scenes” stories – Sauna Boy has a political undercurrent. Low pay, long hours, and emotional manipulation are never far from the surface. The sauna is a place of desire and escape, but also a workplace where staff are under pressure, often exploited, and where intimacy coexists with power imbalances. The eight-question FAQ section, rattled off at speed, is a highlight, packing in wry humour with unexpected education. If anything, the piece could benefit from sharper editing – trimming ten minutes would keep the energy at full steam – but as it stands, this is an engaging and sometimes sobering hour. Sponsored by Steamworks, Edinburgh’s own gay sauna, it played to an audience that seemed to be largely gay couples, who responded warmly. Sauna Boy is more than titillation – it’s an affectionate but unflinching portrait of a scene rarely shown so honestly on stage.

Reviewed by Pat Harrington

Find out more informtion and buy tickets here

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Sister Prudence: A Journey of Faith and Identity

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Prudence Play (or Sister Prudence is NOT Gay) 481 words, 3 minutes read time.

In her dreams, Sister Prudence is wearing a sparkly little black dress and tap-dancing to Britney Spears. It’s a contrast from her boring, regimented life as a Catholic nun. Now and again, however, the nuns go on vocational visits to St Augustine’s school in a bus. There she sits next to her friend, another sister, who tells her about a ‘hot priest’ she’d seen in Fleabag on a sabbatical visit to her family. In this one-woman show, the author and performer, Caroline Dunn, uses a handheld mask when she plays the other sister.

Prudence has grown up with a fear of eternal punishment. She learned from a very young age that you go to hell if you don’t watch your step. She tries to be like her name, prudent, careful with decision making, careful with sin. Becoming a nun was her ‘get outta hell backup plan.’

She lies to herself and the school kids, ‘I’m so at peace. Jesus called me since I was a little girl,’ but in the confession, she admits this lie, but still tries to convince herself that she only admires the other sister as ‘a friend, a friend. She’s got nice hair. A nice face. God blessed her with this. Sure, ‘there’s nothing wrong with admiring a friend, right?’

The action switches between Sister Prudence thinking aloud, Prudence in the confessional and in conversations with the attractive sister. She goes to the fish fry – she hates fish – ‘just to socialise.’ She tries to deny the blatantly obvious, that her friendly thoughts and admiration for the other sister are much more than that.

Just hanging out, having great craic with the the other sister, Prudence gathers her courage and recalls a summer when she was about 12-13 when she spent a whole summer with another girl of the same age. She blurts out, ‘you remind me of her. I love you.’ Suddenly a door slams in her face.  ‘Shut up! Stop! You should not have told me. You need to talk to the priests, to the Superior and about your history’ and she gives out the old line about hating the sin and loving the sinner. The other sister grasses her up. How will she cope with the truth? How will she deal with the betrayal of her confidence? What would you do in her circumstances?

This insightful production brings to life the internal struggles of many gay people of faith as they try to reconcile what they’ve been taught with who they are. The probing, intrusive questions of the investigating priest, Father Moriarty, and the use of shame to bring her back in line all ring true. With good humour, Caroline Dunn’s powerful, haunting script throws a spotlight on the mental conflict conservative religious teachings impose on gay people.

Reviewed by David Kerr

More information and Tickets here

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The Lost Priest: A Journey Through Jewish Identity

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Gabe Seplow enters the stage, lights a candle, and recites a prayer in Hebrew. He muses on the history of his people. How many times has he heard the, ‘You’re the first Jewish person I’ve met’ or ‘you’re the first Jew I’ve ever met.’ He notes that the single syllable – ‘Jew’ – bites in a way that ‘Jewish person’ does not.

A man walking with a shadow projection of his face, overlaid with Hebrew text.

He’s not particularly proud of his religious heritage, but he’s not not proud either. He’s inherited a story passed down for many decades. He recollects how others have perceived his people as lesser breeds; Hitler in 1936 and Shakespeare in 1596 when he wrote The Merchant of Venice.

Despite Seplow’s misgivings about his inherited faith, his refusal to go through a bar mitzvah at the age of 13, (and his lack of horns and a tail) he continues to recite Hebrew prayers. He knows loving and laughter and playing. He’s coming to terms with his identity. Like Shylock, in Shakespeare’s play, he declares aloud, ‘I am a Jew!’

This is a fine, reflective piece of writing. In a world where accusations and assumptions fly like missiles, it’s worthwhile to stand aside and listen. Seplow allows you to do just that.

Reviewed by David Kerr

More information and tickets here

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‘Lost Lear’: A Heart-breaking Tale of Dementia and Estrangement

367 words, 2 minutes read time.

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Conor (Peter Daly) has had a complicated relationship with his mother, Joy (Venetia Bow). She was a famous actress – on television and everything – back in the day. Her gender-crossing portrayal of King Lear was legendary. As the story unfolds, we see the parallels between Conor and Lear’s estranged daughter, Cordelia, and between the maddened Lear and the demented Joy.

A theatrical scene depicting four actors on stage, with one elderly woman seated in an armchair, surrounded by three others. The atmosphere suggests a rehearsal or caregiving situation, with scattered papers on the floor.

Lear threw Cordelia out when she refused to make wild declarations of love for her father. Joy had no connection with Conor until he wrote to her at the age of fifteen and kept her distance from him, not even opening his later letters.

In her care home, Liam (Manus Halliday) constantly rehearses scenes from Lear with Joy to ‘go with whatever her reality is’, to ‘be in her world’. He introduces Conor as the understudy. Liam is infinitely patient with his bitchy diva of a charge. Halliday brings humour to lighten the atmosphere just as the Fool did for Lear.

Peter Daly excels as the hesitant filial ‘understudy’ trying to find a way back to his mum. He plays along with Liam’s strategy as much as he can, but the emotional turmoil he’s in finally breaks through.

Joy doesn’t even recognise her son. He’s just a poor useless understudy who’s ’breaking up the lines’ in his delivery. We see that Joy must have been hard to work with in her prime. Venetia Bowe as Joy and Lear has you hating them both.

Some amazing puppetry shows us – through a veil – what this once proud and haughty actress has been reduced to. This traumatic play brings to life the effects of dementia on the people who feel that they have lost their loved ones. It’s gut-wrenching. It’s heartbreaking. We feel Conor’s despair and pain. Dementia often affects the patient’s loved ones more than the patient herself. Joy in her own mind is still the diva in charge of the rehearsal process. Conor is lost and broken. Conor is mourning his lost connection to his mum.

Like Shakespeare’s Lear, this production examines the nature of love and loss. It’s a masterpiece. The dialogue is snappy. The cast gels together well. I can’t praise it enough.

Reviewed by David Kerr

More information and tickets here

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The Heart-warming Legacy of Ah-Ma: A Story of Love

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298 words, 2 minutes read time.

When Cathy spotted a strange red glow in the sky she realised that something was wrong. It was the destructive Eaton fire in California. It stopped half a mile from her home. The neighbourhood was reduced to rubble, speculators moved in to buy up land for buttons and build apartments for huge profit, but despite it all the community kept together. This caused her to think that in times of chaos we have no choice but to survive and do what we can in the moment.

A performer holding a floral patterned shirt in a dimly lit space with red and green lighting.

Cathy was reminded of her ‘Ah-Ma’ – granny in in Fujianese. In this funny and poignant story, Cathy’s Ah-Ma comes to life for the audience. Stories of how she coped with her brother‘s suicide, her strong loving relationship with Cathy, how she ‘wrapped me in the warmth of her presence.’  She recalls as a child running tearfully after a bus when her Ah-Ma went away for a month – a whole month – at New Year. She wasn’t just a grandmother, she was hope, she was safety for the young Cathy. Whether Cathy was in away in Hong Kong or in the US to study, her Ah-Ma wanted to know, ‘Have you eaten enough? Are you warm enough?’

Then, ten years ago, her beloved Ah-Ma began to fade away with dementia. This wonderful lady, who never learned to read or write yet practised signing her own name in a notepad couldn’t take care of herself anymore.

How Cathy and her Ah-Ma coped with all that life threw at them is a touching story of love and survival. It’s bound to touch the hearts of many who’ve known similar circumstances. Kasen Tsui brings this bittersweet story to life with minimal props, a chair, a shirt and a little notebook – and remarkable stage presence. Don’t miss this.

Reviewed by David Kerr

More information and tickets here

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Exploring Edy Hurst’s Fringe 2025: A Blend of History and Humour

Edy Hurst’s Wonderfull Discoverie of Witches in the Countie of Himself is a gleefully chaotic, deeply personal comedy-theatre show that blends Lancashire witch trial lore and the irresistible pull of the Vengaboys into one spellbound hour of storytelling. Counter Culture wanted to know more about the Edinburgh Fringe 2025 show so we asked Edy.

A whimsical portrayal of a character resembling a witch, sitting in a large cauldron with a forest background. The character is wearing a straw hat and glasses, exuding a playful and humorous vibe with colorful smoke effects.
  1. Your show leaps from witch trials to the Vengaboys via ADHD—how did those threads first collide in your mind?

Well look, a lot of people keep saying ADHD is a big part of the show, but let me nip that in the bud. This is simply a show about the Lancashire Witch Trials, and also how the Vengaboys secretly made a concept album where they circumnavigate the globe, and nothing else.

Was I diagnosed with ADHD just before I started making the show? Sure. Does it make me find patterns in things that, at first, might appear disparate and unrelated? Perhaps. Do I go on about it all the time? Not on this watch!

  1. There’s something anarchic about remixing history with Europop. Are you reclaiming joy as resistance?

Well that makes me feel like I’m doing something important so thank you! 

I think joy is probably always an act of resistance, and to prioritise that is to welcome surprise and connection into your life, you don’t get to find it where you plan to, and it’s not something that can be measured or quantified, but it’s one of the greatest feelings you get on earth.

And because it’s joyful, and because you’re hoping to bring people along on your journey of exploration, you’re reminding yourselves that you need to be open and willing and take risks and to think about the world in a different way. 

To consider that maybe our preconceived notions that cheesy dance song could be held as an insight into a time and a place in the same way as historical accounts are is both accepting the madness of our reality and the ridiculousness of the world we find ourselves in.

That, but also it’s a daft laugh, and you know what? We don’t have a lot, but we have a laugh don’t we?

  1. What drew you to witch trials specifically? Is it the hysteria, the misdiagnosis, or something deeper about who gets punished for being ‘too much’?

One of the seeds of the show is that my mum told me we were related to some of the women accused in the Lancashire Witch Trials, so everything about the Pendle Witches and the Lancashire Witch Trials kind of came out of that. 

Growing up in the North and always being interested in folklore and fantasy, they’re events that I think are really easy to romanticise despite the fact all our knowledge comes from what were at the time legitimate but problematic court documents. 

The more research you do the more you find out what a complicated set of philosophical and political circumstances led to these people being accused, and how the decisions documented there led to wider witch trials, and where the turning point of someone being a ‘cunning folk’ that practices magic at the request of the community to becoming a Witch is. 

Like so many things in the past it’s really tempting for people to put their own view points on what it actually meant, without there being much more than a single document of information. Something I’ve been very aware of making the show is that to create work about witch trials is to create something that directly addresses real people, unlike Dracula, Frankenstein or other staples of horror there was a genuine impact in the stories we told of witchcraft, and I think that there’s some level of responsibility you carry with that.

A responsibility just as great as knowing that the vengaboys made a concept album where they learnt to circumnavigate the globe but nobody has noticed except me.

(Some folks who I’d really recommend for additional reading is Thomas Waters Cursed Britain, Owen Davies Cunning Folk and Ronald Sutton’s The Witch.)

  1. ADHD shapes your storytelling—not just the content but the rhythm, the pace, the tangents. How do audiences respond to that kind of honesty?

That’s really interesting to think of it as honesty! And you’re right, I think it’s something that I can’t not do, it constantly betrays or conveys my thought process even if I’m not talking about specific events or occurrences from my life. 

I really like trying to do things I haven’t done before, or I haven’t seen done on stage. Part of the privilege of getting to perform for me is that you should try and creatively push both you and your audience’s experiences. Having said that, one of the things about trying something new is that it’s uncharted territory, and audiences need to feel comfortable that in taking a risk they will be rewarded, or the journey is worth that walk.

I think the audience response is often quite dependent on the context I’m in. For my own shows where an audience knows they’re coming for a particular topic told by someone with a particular image, they should have a good idea of what to expect before they walk in.

Whereas at a comedy club I’m one part of a mix of acts, and so as a musical comedian who does lots of different types of energies and paces in a set, it’s often about quickly showing that I also know that I am often a contrast to the other acts, but that it’s fine. It’s better than fine! It’s Great!

I guess it boils down to in the club context “It’s weird; I like it” and in the show context “I like it;it’s weird” or at least hopefully. Not everyone likes everything, and I think that is quite frankly very rude.

  1. You’ve said that the Vengaboys are the sonic embodiment of “weird hope.” What does that mean in the context of your show?

That does sound like something I’ve said, and I shall add it to the worrying list of ‘things people have said I said that aren’t bad things to have said but I have no recollection of saying.’

I think the Vengaboys are a very fun celebration of difference without you realising it,. This was in the show and was dropped because there wasn’t enough time but “Boom Boom Boom Boom” is a celebration of female sexual agency that was released at a time when female pop stars weren’t often given that level of respect, whilst at the same time being a fun campy dance song.

It’s music that is catchy and, for late 90s early 00s euro-dance, doesn’t out stay it’s welcome, which I think is partly why they’re still a successful touring band to this day. I also think that their songs are easy to see as light 

  1. Fringe can be overwhelming at the best of times—how do you navigate performing with neurodivergence in a festival environment like this?
  2. Comedy’s had a big reckoning with labels, diagnoses, identity. Are you part of a wave that’s doing away with shame?
  1. Would you rather be tried as a witch or spend eternity on the Vengabus?

Ahhhh yes, much like the trolley problem, it is the perennial question, whether to buy a ticket to the Vengabus or sit in the dock armed with a broomstick. It’s a choice that haunts me. On the one hand, the Vengabus is a great mode of transport in an intercity disco. On the other hand, everybody’s jumping, and that could be stressful. Then on the other other hand, being tried as a witch is the absolute pits. Vengabus 100%

  1. What’s the audience reaction you cherish most? Confusion, catharsis, or just boogying in their seat?

There’s a pretty recent interview Donald Glover (Childish Gambino) did where he talks about some advice he got from Erykah Badu. He’s worried about how his audience will feel about his new album and asks Erykah if she ever feels that and tells him “I make what I like, and they eat it how they want to eat it.”

I’ll be honest, I’m just grateful out of all the shows and experiences on earth they chose to spend an hour watching something I’m making, and hilst I hope that they enjoy and get out of what I’m trying to convey, it’s pretty fucking cool they turned up at all.

  1. If we were to set your show to a trial of its own—what’s the closing argument you’d make in its defence?

Hey now! What’s the show on trial for? What’s its crime? Enjoying a meal? A succulent Chinese meal? If that’s the case, lock me up and throw away my keys, that sounds delicious.

Buy tickets for the show here

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