Blues, whisky, and a room full of willing conspirators — few Fringe shows blend music, storytelling and guided tasting with the swagger and charm of 2 Guys, 3 Drams. Now entering their fourth consecutive Edinburgh run, Felipe and Paul return with a fresh line‑up of whiskies, a new sponsor in InchDairnie, and the same mission as ever: to turn a room of strangers into one merry, whisky‑swigging organism. Counter Culture asked the duo to talk drams, blues, audience alchemy, and why their show title is technically a lie…
You describe the show as “more than a concert and more than a tasting.” What’s the moment where those two worlds collide most perfectly on stage?
Honestly, the moment we start playing the first song of the show, and we bring out the first whisky to serve our audience. It’s an unusual format, so this is the point where I think everyone realises together “oh, they’re DEFINITELY serving whisky too” and is immediately ready to go along with whatever we have planned for them.
Felipe Schrieberg and Paul Archibald
Three whiskies in an hour is a bold structure. How do you choose which drams make the cut each year?
We reach out to different brands or distilleries who have whisky that we really like, and then curate the selection of available whiskies for the show. We prefer to have something lighter to start, spicier and more robust or unusual second, and preferably something quite heavy or peated last. We regularly rotate the selection throughout the run.
Blues and whisky both have deep cultural roots. What’s the connection between them that keeps pulling you back?
In blues, you rarely are playing more than three chords with relatively simple grooves. In Scotch malt whisky, you’ve just got three ingredients to work with. And yet, there’s infinite ways to prepare and combine those elements, meaning that you end up with so much character, flavour, and variety across both. I think this is why they’re such a good pairing.
You’ve had three consecutive sell‑out years. What’s the biggest change you’ve made to the show for 2026?
We don’t actually follow a script. We block the show out in modular segments that encourage audience interaction, provide some kind of educational fact about the world of whisky, or feature tricks on sounding clever whenever you’re drinking whisky. We’re constantly coming up with new segments to add, or swapping different ones in and out with each show. It’ll be the same this year. The whiskies we’re working with are completely different as well.
InchDairnie is sponsoring the run — how does working with a new‑wave distillery influence the tasting experience?
InchDairnie is one of nine sponsors, but the only one involved for a full run, and we’ll be serving their fascinating rye whisky every night. The team really gets what our show is about and what we want to do. In their case, it is truly unusual to try a Scottish rye whisky (under Scottish law, it is technically a “grain whisky”), so this is a chance to showcase some truly unique aromas and flavours to our crowd. Even most hardcore Scotch geeks won’t have tried something like this before.
Felipe, you’ve said audiences will “leave knowing how to sound clever about whisky.” What’s the one whisky fact people always get wrong?
I don’t know about “getting wrong,” but we like to joke that our show title is a lie. In old‑school Scottish bar‑speak, a dram actually refers to a double measure whereas a nip refers to a single measure. Over the years, the word “dram” has become a catch‑all for any measure that everyone uses, even the whisky industry. Since we’re actually serving single measures at the show, a more appropriate title for the show is 2 Guys, 3 Nips…
The show mixes humour, education, and live music. What’s the hardest part of keeping all three elements in balance?
I would say being able to calibrate the performance to the energy of the room. It means meeting the audience where they are, and then seeing where you can go together.
It’s quite special when we can make the audience turn into one merry whisky‑swigging organism over the course of the show. We employ a whole suite of tricks to do it, and blending together music, education and humour actually gives us many useful tools to work with to reach our goal.
Blues is often about storytelling. Whisky is too. What’s the best story behind one of the drams you’re serving this year?
InchDairnie is a really interesting one — they really are a truly groundbreaking distillery with how they produce their whisky, and serving a rye that’s normally associated with the USA and Canada is really fun. It helps break the usual preconceptions people have about whisky and what it should “be.”
We’re also serving a blended whisky called Ardray, which is actually a collaboration between Beam Suntory’s top Scotch whisky master blender and the legendary Japanese whisky blender Shinji Fukuyo. It’s a great argument as to why you should never see blends as inferior.
You’ve played everywhere from tasting rooms to festival stages. What makes the Fringe audience different?
For us, it’s more the nature of doing a theatre show. Performing at the Fringe is a format that makes us tighten up our usual chaos into something more formal and structured. We actually like this — we think it’s vitally important as musicians to be performing in different contexts. It means you stay present, take nothing for granted, and learn how to connect with your audience no matter the situation. Putting together a Fringe show is a different way to explore making meaningful connections through music and whisky.
After years of performing this show, what’s the most surprising reaction you’ve ever had from someone tasting whisky for the first time?
Not too surprising, but we always give ourselves a little pat on the back when we get someone who says they thought they didn’t like whisky until they came to our show and realised that they actually do like whisky after all!
What’s striking about Villain Era is how sharply it understands the women it’s speaking to — and the ones it’s speaking for. Juliette Burton, the writer and performer behind the show, doesn’t approach villainy as a gimmick or a costume; she treats it as a lens, a challenge, and sometimes a liberation. Her work has always wrestled with identity, power, and the stories women are handed, but here she pushes further, pulling apart the myths that shape us and the rules we’re expected to obey.
Talking with Juliette, you feel that mix of mischief and seriousness immediately. She’s funny, sharp, and unafraid to sit with the uncomfortable bits — the rage, the conditioning, the cultural policing — and then flip them into something joyful, defiant, and deeply human. Villain Era isn’t just a show; it’s a reclamation. And Juliette is the one steering it, inviting audiences into a world where women get to be complex, loud, powerful, silly, sexy, nerdy, and unapologetically themselves. Find out more at the Fringe website.
•Villainous Women — Fiction’s “bad girls” often carry the truths polite society can’t handle. Which villainess taught you the most about power, and what did she give you that the so‑called heroines never could?
Coming to the show you will step into the world of fictional villainous and morally grey women including: Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn, Catwoman, Rogue, Emma Frost, Goblin Queen, witches like Agatha Harkness or Scarlet Witch, Greek Goddesses, and Yennefer of Vengerberg.
She starts life powerless, unwanted and dismissed, then stops trying to be “good” and starts owning who she is. That was a revelation for me. Heroines are often rewarded for being selfless; villainesses are punished for being powerful.
Rogue is the other key one for me. My favourite comic book character began as a villain in the comic books in the 1980s. In the X-Men, she begins as a villain who absorbs the power and psyche of Carol Danvers aka Captain Marvel aka the most powerful Avenger and is terrified she can’t contain it. That fear that embracing your power might make you dangerous, felt familiar to me. Now I realise it only makes you dangerous who people who benefit from you being weak or controlled.
Fearing for her sanity Rogue turned to Professor Xavier for help. When I feared for my own sanity, I too turned to a bald man – Bill Bailey. He inspired me to get into stand up and just like Rogue became a leader in the XMen I also lead people… astray.
One of the things comic book villains and heroes like the XMen taught me is that power isn’t zero-sum. My power doesn’t diminish anyone else’s, it can highlight and sharpen it. The real shift happens when we stop seeing each other’s strength as a threat, and start learning how to exist alongside it in harmony.
If we can do that – personally, culturally, collectively – we don’t just survive each other’s differences but we become stronger because of them. That feels, to me, like the most hopeful “Villain Era” there could be.
Then there are witches like Agatha Harkness and Wanda Maximoff, who show that women’s power often grows with age which is exactly why we’re encouraged to disappear as we get older. Not me. I’m determined to get louder, prouder and embrace my power.
And Dark Phoenix, who taught me that the problem isn’t our innate power itself, but other people’s inability to cope with it.
It’s not even a case of ‘step into your power’ – we always had it. But now, we’re remembering our power and becoming it.
• Good Girl Conditioning — You describe yourself as a former “good girl”. What’s the most insidious part of that conditioning that you had to unlearn to step into your Villain Era?
The most insidious part of “good girl” conditioning is how deeply it ties identity, worth and safety to being agreeable, pleasing and non-disruptive. I learnt early that taking up space, having opinions, changing my body or challenging other people all come with social punishment. So I ended up chasing an impossible version of myself that was never meant to be achievable.
And even when I thought I’d attained it, I wasn’t allowed to veer from it even for a moment. You’re punished if you veer off the course that’s set and you’re punished if you achieve it – just look at women in the spotlight, allowed a brief stint there before they’re torn down one way or another.
And I think a lot of those “goals” are deliberately unattainable, set by systems and industries that profit from you feeling like you’re not enough. Comedy helped me unpick that, because it isn’t built on perfection or pleasing everyone. It’s built on truth, risk and joy. And there’s very little profit in joy, just freedom.
• Nerd Culture Politics — Nerd culture loves a redemption arc but fears female rage. How much of Villain Era is you reclaiming a space that was never built with women in mind?
Nerd culture has often been gatekept by people who frame it as “us vs them”, scarcity vs belonging, and who can be very attached to clear binaries of good and bad. It’s interesting, because on the surface nerd culture may love a redemption arc… but underneath that is the question: why do we need redemption at all and who decided someone was “beyond it” in the first place?
A lot of nerd storytelling, especially in comics, is basically modern mythology. The X-Men are essentially Greek gods in cool jackets. They constantly wrestle with identity, power and belonging, and just like ancient gods and goddesses we can turn to each of them to help us through an aspect of being human that we might be wrestling with at any given time in our lives. And I think the most compelling stories are the ones where hero and villain aren’t fixed states, but internal struggles.
The idea that nerd culture “fears female rage” is partly true in some spaces, but not all. I’ve also seen it be one of the few places and people that properly welcome, encourage and embrace powerful, complex women – women who are allowed to be messy, angry, moral, immoral, all of it.
What fascinates me most is the idea that society has to exist as if there’s a “them versus us”, eg men versus women, or nerds versus jocks, or old fans versus new fans, or an old franchise version versus a new franchise version/spinoff. It’s bizarre to me considering that so much of comic books and nerd culture is supposedly about wrestling with unity. The X-Men wrestle with the idea that they are inherently born different and so, do they use their powers to help protect those who would seek to persecute them? Or is tolerance extinction? For either ‘them’ or ‘us’?
The very fact that the nerd culture communities are aware of these conversations makes me feel safer in nerd culture than in other spaces in society right now, purely because we’re having those conversations, albeit via the prism of comic book lore.
All my shows are me reclaiming space… being on stage an inviting people into my world for an hour is my favourite place to be – I get to set the tone and invite people in. No gatekeeping, all inclusive… I wish that meant your food and drink was free but sadly just the joy.
• Sexy vs Silly — Your show promises to be “very silly, very sexy, incredibly nerdy”. Where do you think humour and sexuality meet, and why do British audiences still get twitchy when women mix the two?
Humour and sexuality have always been intertwined for me, they’re both about timing, truth, and not taking yourself too seriously. It still makes me laugh that when I came out as queer, my friends said, “we thought you already knew.” Apparently I was the last to know.
I also think we often confuse sexuality with sensuality and eroticism, and then immediately panic about what women are “allowed” to be in public. There’s still discomfort—particularly in British culture around openly sexual women who are also funny, clever, nerdy, or self-aware. It can disrupt the very tidy Madonna/whore boxes people would prefer to keep us in.
Adding in ‘funny’ confuses those who benefit from forcing women into polarised identities because humour empowers, laughter unites and brings us together, it breaks down pretty little lies about who we are, who we can be and what our roles are.
But the truth is women aren’t one thing. We’re allowed to be silly and sexy and ridiculous and powerful all at once. And if that makes people twitchy, I think that says more about their conditioning than it does about us.
• Rage as Fuel — You’re tackling inequality, bad sex lives, and the cultural policing of women’s behaviour. What role does anger play in your writing — ignition, compass, or something more dangerous?
Anger is definitely the ignition point for my writing. If something makes me angry, it usually means there’s a crack in the system somewhere and that’s where the comedy lives. Big things, small things, bad sex, inequality, cultural policing of women’s behaviour… it all starts with that moment of “hang on, why is this just normal?”
I used to be quite afraid of my anger. Therapy taught me that holding onto it was like holding hot stones except the only person getting burned was me. And that’s still true… if you just sit in resentment. But anger handled properly isn’t destruction, it’s information. It tells you what matters, what’s wrong, and what needs changing.
I’m angry about inequality, I’m angry about the amount of mediocre sex women are expected to quietly accept, and I’m very angry about how tightly women’s behaviour is still policed. But I don’t think anger is my compass, that’s a steadier commitment to belief we can do better. Anger is the spark, not the map.
Anger only becomes dangerous when it’s misused to divide people or distract from where the real power sits. In comedy, I try to aim it somewhere more useful: at the absurdity of the rules themselves. And ideally, we get to laugh at them while they fall apart.
• Queerness and Power — The press release hints at queerness as part of the journey. How does stepping into a “villain” identity open up new ways of talking about desire and identity?
When you’re raised in a culture where female desire is suppressed – whether that’s appetite, sexuality, difference, or queerness – it can start to feel like anything outside the “acceptable” script is automatically wrong. Even just wanting too much, or wanting differently, can get framed as selfish or even villainous.
So stepping into a “villain” identity becomes strangely freeing. It allows you to question who decided the rules in the first place, and why honesty about desire has to be punished. Whether that’s queerness, polyamory, or just forms of attraction and romance that don’t fit neatly into a norm, it all gets labelled as deviation from a story someone else wrote.
But “villainy” is really just perspective. It’s narrative. Good and bad aren’t fixed states – they’re labels we’ve inherited. And once you start pulling at that thread, the whole idea of what’s “normal” or “acceptable” starts to flip upside down in an exciting and liberating way.
• Fantasy Armour — You mention armour made of “hard truths, high fantasy and hilarious punchlines”. What’s the piece of metaphorical armour you didn’t realise you needed until you wrote this show?
Every woman needs a sword right now. That’s just a fact. But since actual armour isn’t exactly socially acceptable in most day-to-day situations, I think what I didn’t realise I needed was a full emotional breastplate – something that lets you walk into the world slightly more protected, but still very much a woman in power.
Or, you know… just better boundaries and less apologising. That too.
• Nerdgasms — You promise “live nerdgasms”. For the uninitiated: what exactly constitutes a nerdgasm, and how do you engineer one onstage without breaking Fringe fire regulations?
A nerdgasm is a kind of euphoric nerd peak—the tingle of recognition, like Spidey sense kicking in, when you feel completely seen by others who accept you, get you, understand your niche references, share your passions – whether that be for a fandom, for a passion or for challenging the status quo. It’s that moment of shared joy when a niche detail suddenly becomes a communal experience.
A nerdgasm happens when fandom, humour, sexuality and storytelling all collide in one room. Because the best nerdgasms aren’t solo, they’re collective. Multiple nerdgasms, if you will.
This cannot be engineered. A nerdgasm in the wild can only happen naturally, organically and only if we give ourselves permission to feel safe and lean in together. All I can do is create the conditions: honesty, play, a bit of chaos and a lot of love and respect. The rest is chemistry.
And if the fire alarm goes, well, we’ve clearly made the show incredibly hot.
• Villain Era Ethics — Every villain thinks they’re the hero of their own story. What’s the ethical line you refuse to cross, even in your Villain Era?
You can be a baddie, just don’t be a dick.
My “Villain Era” reign holds no cruelty or destruction. Just integrity, honesty, agency and refusing to shrink myself to make other people comfortable.
I’ve been the villain in other people’s stories for long enough that I’ve stopped trying to to be the “hero”. Instead, I’m leaning into the villain they’ve already decided I am. At least I look good in black. That doesn’t mean I wish them harm, I just wish them well while I live my life in the fullest, darkest, most powerful way possible. When you embrace your shadow self, turns out the team up is a power up.
That, to me, is the ethical line: don’t lose your humanity while you’re realising your power.
• Cultural Rebellion — Counter Culture readers love a rebellion. Do you see Villain Era as a personal metamorphosis, a cultural protest, or a gleeful act of mischief aimed at the patriarchy?
Villain Era is all of the above and more. Just like a woman, this show is multifaceted and is many things all at once.
Villain Era is all of the above and more. Like most women, it refuses to be just one thing at a time.
It’s a personal metamorphosis, because it’s been shaped by unlearning who I was told to be.
It’s a cultural protest, because so much of what I’m talking about – gender, power, sexuality, identity – doesn’t exist outside of politics, whether we name it or not.
And it’s a gleeful act of mischief aimed at the patriarchy because sometimes the best response to absurd systems that seek to control us is to laugh at them.
But underneath all of that, Villain Era is joyful, silly and fun. It’s a reclamation. It’s permission for me and for the audience to take up space without asking nicely.
In a sunny meadow stood the Golden Hive, glowing like a drop of warm honey.
Inside lived two little sisters: Goldenwing, gentle and kind, and Swordbee, bold and bursting with energy.
Two Sisters, One Heart
Goldenwing and Swordbee did everything together.
They played in the flowers, curled up in their honeycomb bed, and whispered stories until the moon rose.
Their hearts buzzed in the same rhythm.
Their Brave Mother
Their mother, Honeyglow, was the bravest bee in the meadow.
She taught them to fly, to help others, and to keep courage warm inside their chests.
“Strength,” she said, “is not in your stinger — it’s in your kindness.”
The Magic Honey Pots
Deep inside the hive shimmered the Magic Honey Pots, glowing with golden light.
They kept the hive warm, safe, and full of hope.
Honeyglow guarded them with all her heart.
The Giant Bumblebee
One day, a giant bumblebee landed with a thud.
He wasn’t cruel — just big, loud, and greedy.
“I smell magic honey!” he boomed. “Give it to me!”
The hive shook like a leaf.
Honeyglow’s Last Stand
Honeyglow flew out to shield her daughters.
She buzzed, dodged, and stung with all her strength.
At last, the giant bumblebee lumbered away…
…but Honeyglow’s wings were fading.
A Goodbyeove of L
Goldenwing held her mother close.
Swordbee stood frozen, her heart cracking open.
Honeyglow whispered, “Be brave… be kind…”
And then she was gone.
The hive fell silent.
Two Sisters, Two Paths
Goldenwing cried softly and stayed close to the other bees.
Swordbee did not cry.
Fear curled inside her like a shadow.
“I must never be weak,” she told herself.
Swordbee Becomes Queen
As she grew, Swordbee became strong — but also sharp and strict.
She ruled with fear, believing it would keep everyone safe.
Goldenwing stayed gentle, helping every bee she met.
The hive loved Goldenwing.
Swordbee felt her heart grow heavier.
One day, Swordbee’s fear grew too big.
She tried to stop Goldenwing, thinking kindness made the hive weak.
But the bees stood with Goldenwing — brave, buzzing, united.
Swordbee’s strength cracked.
Her wings dimmed.
She fell to the ground… not as Swordbee, but as Halfwing, the small bee she once was
A Sster’s Hug
Goldenwing wrapped her wings around her sister. “You don’t have to be strong alone,” she whispered. Swordbee trembled… then hugged her back. The hive glowed softly, as if love itself had returned.
A New Dawn
The hive danced in golden pollen.
Goldenwing became the heart of the hive.
Halfwing learned, slowly and bravely, that kindness was not weakness — it was strength.
Together, the sisters helped the Golden Hive shine brighter than ever.
Best in Class returns to the Edinburgh Fringe in 2026 as one of the festival’s most vital and talked‑about platforms for working‑class comedians. Founded by Sian Davies after confronting the financial and social barriers that routinely shut out performers from less privileged backgrounds, the project has grown from a single crowdfunded showcase into a movement that trains, supports, and champions working‑class talent across the UK. Their Fringe shows have become a daily sell‑out phenomenon, celebrated for bringing fresh voices to a festival still dominated by middle‑ and upper‑class acts . With award‑winning momentum behind them — including the Edinburgh Comedy Awards Panel Prize and multiple grants supporting their work — Best in Class arrives at Fringe 2026 with a renewed mission: to platform performers who deserve to be heard and to challenge the systemic inequalities that shape the comedy industry
1. Working‑class barriers — The Fringe keeps getting more expensive and more corporate. From where you’re standing, what’s the most invisible barrier working‑class comedians still face that middle‑class audiences never notice?
The biggest barrier is still financial, but two other huge factors are contacts and knowledge.Many working-class comedians simply don’t have the same networks as people who grew up around the arts. They might not know the right people to ask for advice, where to find opportunities, or even what opportunities exist in the first place.A lot of that knowledge gets passed around informally, so if you’re not already in those circles it can be much harder to access. That’s one of the things Best in Class tries to help with. We want our acts to experience the Fringe, build connections, gain confidence and learn how the industry works, so they can take those opportunities forward into the rest of their careers.
2. Funding the Fringe — Best in Class is proudly crowdfunded and profit‑sharing. What’s the most surprising thing you’ve learned about who does and doesn’t put their money behind working‑class talent?
We’re always incredibly grateful for every donation, whatever the size.One of the most encouraging things this year has been seeing support from some really well-known and established comedians. It’s lovely to know that people who are further along in their careers believe in what we’re doing and want to help the next generation of working-class talent.More broadly, it’s been really heartening to see support come from all sorts of places. Every year we’re reminded that there are lots of people across the comedy industry and beyond who genuinely want to help make opportunities more accessible.
3. Talent pipeline — You’ve built a showcase that’s become a launchpad. What’s the moment you realised Best in Class wasn’t just a show but a counter‑culture talent engine?
It’s hard to choose one particular moment, because we’re lucky enough to see lots of small (and occasionally very big!) wins.Whether it’s spotting one of our alumni on TV, hearing them on the radio, seeing them tour a full show, or watching them get opportunities they might not otherwise have had, those moments are always a real source of pride.
For us, that’s what Best in Class is all about: helping talented working-class comedians take the next step in their careers and showing just how much incredible talent is out there.
4. Class on stage — How do you navigate the line between representing working‑class life and being expected to perform it for a largely middle‑class festival audience?
As comedians, we’re used to sharing our lives on stage. That can feel quite vulnerable for anyone, regardless of their background.
The brilliant thing about comedy is that audiences connect with honesty. While our acts bring their own experiences and perspectives to the stage, they’re not there to represent an entire class or community. They’re there to tell funny, personal stories.
What we’ve found is that great comedy resonates with audiences from all backgrounds. The specifics of a story might be different, but the emotions and experiences behind it are often surprisingly universal.
5. The 2026 line‑up — This year’s acts range from vaudeville chaos to dark self‑deprecation to political storytelling. What unites this line‑up beyond class background?
This year’s line-up all share values that really align with Best in Class: a strong work ethic, a willingness to support one another, and the determination to pursue their goals despite the barriers they may face.
We’re also passionate about building a sense of community. Best in Class has never just been about putting on a show; it’s about creating a network where comedians can learn from each other, champion each other and grow together.
This year’s cohort is a fantastic example of that spirit, and we’re incredibly proud to be working with them.
6. Comedy industry inequality — If you could change one structural thing about the UK comedy industry tomorrow to make it fairer, what would it be?
It’s a big one, but fees.
We all understand that rising costs affect everyone, from venues and promoters to audiences and performers. But comedy simply wouldn’t exist without comedians, and performance fees haven’t increased at the same rate as many other costs.
If we could change one thing, we’d love to see comedians paid more fairly for their work. Even small things like travel expenses can make a huge difference, particularly for newer acts who are often paying significant costs upfront just to get on stage and build their careers.
7. Fringe economics — The Fringe loves to market itself as “the world’s biggest open‑access arts festival”. From your perspective, how true is that slogan in 2026?
The Edinburgh Fringe is still one of the most exciting and accessible arts festivals in the world in many ways, but it’s becoming increasingly difficult for people without financial backing to take part.
Like much of the arts sector, rising costs have had a significant impact, and those challenges are often felt most acutely by people from working-class backgrounds.
We’d love to see more meaningful conversations about how performers can access the festival if they don’t have a financial safety net. The more people who are able to take part, the richer and more representative the Fringe becomes.
8. Bursaries and impact — Your bursaries now help working‑class comedians bring full shows to the Fringe. What’s the most powerful transformation you’ve seen from someone who received support?
One of the most rewarding things we see is a real increase in confidence.
For many of our acts, performing at the Edinburgh Fringe is something they’ve never imagined would be possible. Once they’re there, meeting other artists, performing their work and seeing audience reactions, they begin to realise that they absolutely deserve to be part of it.
That shift in mindset can be incredibly powerful. We regularly hear from alumni about how much the experience helped their confidence, opened new opportunities and encouraged them to aim higher in their careers.
9. Comedy and identity — Several acts this year talk openly about disability, neurodivergence, sexuality, or cultural heritage. How do you create a space where those stories can be told without being commodified?
We don’t ask people to talk about any particular aspect of their identity. The comedians we work with are selected because they’re talented, funny and have something interesting to say.
If an act wants to talk about disability, neurodivergence, sexuality, cultural heritage or any other part of their life, that’s entirely their choice. We want people to feel able to tell the stories that matter to them, in whatever way feels authentic.
Ultimately, our role is to create a supportive environment where comedians can be themselves. We trust our acts to decide what they want to share with audiences and how they want to share it.
10. Future of Best in Class — If Best in Class had unlimited funding and zero constraints, what’s the radical version of the project you’d build next?
If funding and resources were no object, we’d love to support more working-class comedians at every stage of their careers.
That could mean more bursaries, more training and mentoring opportunities, regional showcases across the UK, industry networking events, and year-round development programmes rather than focusing primarily on the Edinburgh Fringe.
Ultimately, we’d love to build a sustainable pipeline of support, helping talented comedians access opportunities, develop their skills and progress their careers, regardless of their financial background or where they live.
In this second installment some more first wave West Coast punk, visiting LA, Portland, Bellingham, and Vancouver BC! From Bellingham Washington, it’s “Kill The Bee Gees” by The Accident – Fantastic musicianship and very entertaining video made at the time..capitalizing on the “Disco Sucks” movement fashionable at the time. On the vinyl 45 the opening line is “Is everybody around here REALLY a bunch of WIMPS??” Subreference listed in the youtube comments.
Nazi Training Camp by DOA Like the Dils and Wipers, a quality power trio – from way up north in Vancouver CA. Incredibly dynamic power trio with Chuck Biscuits killin’ it on the drums! Yeah.. they did “Disco Sucks” and had the preamble, “Is everybody around here a bunch of wimps?” Inside jokes, tongue in cheek and all that. From the live 12″ EP Triumph of the Ignoroids.
Messed Up Mixed Up by Sado Nation – Off of their debut album. With punk luminary Mish Bondaj on vocals. They did have an earlier single with an earlier singer which I’ll review later, and yet an ever earlier singer, John Shirley (look ‘im up!). More greatness from Portland, Oregon!
Square City – Flyboys. Their best known song, and a great single, very catchy – from LA – not hard core punk but super original and one of my favorite LA punk singles.
Alleycats – Too Much Junk. Super catchy single from an iconic 1st wave LA punk band. I saw them several times (another power trio!) and they were super nice people.
TAQN = The Eyes. Long form title is Take A Quaalude Now. Great very original sound. Incredibly catchy with lyrics that are both disturbing and humorous at the same time – that’s the LA think in the late 7Os: Be serious and have a sense of humor at the same time. These guys exemplify that ethic. On Dangerhouse – who else?
We Don’t Need The English – The Bags: A genuine diss on English first wave punk bands – but make no mistake about it – they ADORED their UK contemporaries. Really good musicianship. I saw them live and they were intense yet good players! On Dangerhouse of course!
Don’t Be Afraid To Pogo – The Gears: Again, are they serious or just poking fun at stuff? Yes! I sing this song often, in a lounge lizard fashion. Again, really good musicians – listen to their album Rocking At Ground Zero. These guys were a proto-surf-punk band.. but not the super hard core flavor yet.
Social platforms rarely feel like places for reflection. They reward speed, certainty, and spectacle — the very things Counter Culture has always resisted. And yet there’s value in stepping into the public square, not to shout above the crowd but to offer a different frequency: slower, sharper, more attentive to the textures of culture and the stories that shape us. That’s the spirit behind Counter Culture’s arrival on X, a platform where the project can extend its reach without losing its voice.
A Space for Thoughtful Signals
The new X page introduces Counter Culture with a simple promise: film, TV, books, politics, and everyday life explored with atmospheric insight and clarity. It’s a mission statement that cuts against the grain of the platform’s usual churn. Instead of hot takes, the feed offers fragments of the site’s longer essays — glimpses of reviews, cultural notes, and political reflections that invite readers to slow down rather than scroll past.
This approach matters. In a landscape where cultural commentary is often reduced to outrage or instant reaction, Counter Culture’s presence on X becomes a small act of resistance: a reminder that criticism can be patient, that analysis can be humane, and that curiosity is still a political stance.
Building a Public Archive
Already, the page is beginning to form a kind of living archive. Posts link back to recent pieces — from reflections on Wuthering Heights (2026) to dispatches from Summerhall’s 2026 programme. Each link is a doorway into a larger conversation, a way of threading the site’s essays into the rhythms of daily browsing.
This isn’t about chasing virality. It’s about creating a trail of signals: small, steady markers that guide readers toward deeper engagement. The X page becomes a map of what Counter Culture is paying attention to — and, by extension, what it believes is worth noticing.
A Community in Formation
Every cultural project begins with a handful of readers. The X page currently shows a modest following, but that’s not a weakness — it’s a beginning. Communities built slowly tend to be communities built well. They gather people who are drawn to the work itself rather than the noise around it.
The early posts, the quiet feed, the absence of spectacle: all of this creates space for something more durable. A readership that values nuance. A conversation that doesn’t collapse into slogans. A shared sense that culture is not just entertainment but a way of understanding the world.
Why This Platform, and Why Now?
Counter Culture has always been about more than reviews. It’s about the moral weather of everyday life — the signals that pass between politics, art, and personal experience. X, for all its flaws, remains a place where those signals circulate quickly. Being present there means being part of the cultural bloodstream, not as a passive observer but as an active interpreter.
The platform also offers something practical: visibility. Not the empty visibility of metrics, but the meaningful visibility of connection. A way for readers to encounter the work in their daily routines. A way for the project to grow without diluting its integrity.
What Comes Next
As the page develops, it will become a companion to the main site — a place for previews, reflections, fragments, and provocations. A place where the editorial voice can stretch, experiment, and respond to the cultural moment without losing its grounding.
Counter Culture’s arrival on X isn’t a pivot. It’s an expansion. Another room in the same house. Another signal in the same frequency.
Welcome to Midweek Song List (141) — and a small milestone for us. This series has been running quietly but faithfully on the Counter Culture Facebook page for quite some time now, gathering a loyal little community of music‑spotters, nostalgists, and people who simply enjoy a good tune on a Wednesday. We’ve now decided to publish the lists on the website too, so they’re easier to find, share, and revisit.
As ever, all selections are by John Field, whose musical curiosity continues to take us down unexpected paths.
Before we get into this week’s choices, a quick thank‑you to everyone who commented on the last list. We had some cracking feedback on the trade‑union track we featured, plus a surprisingly spirited discussion about drums. It’s always a pleasure to see what sparks conversation.
Marking a Century: The General Strike
This year marks the 100th anniversary of the 1926 UK General Strike, so we’re opening with a song that has travelled across borders and generations: Billy Bragg’s version of “Which Side Are You On?”
Originally written by Florence Reece during the 1931 Harlan County coal miners’ strike, it’s one of those protest songs that never quite loses its edge. Bragg’s version ties it directly to the 1984–85 miners’ strike here in the UK — a reminder that the struggles of working people echo across time.
This Week’s Highlights
Kings of Leon – “Sex on Fire” A track that’s been welded to radio playlists for years, yet the band themselves seem to have slipped into the background. Are they still active? If anyone knows, do tell — we’re curious.
Anonymous Ulster – “Altnaveigh” With St Patrick’s Day just behind us, this one’s for anyone with an interest in the layered, often painful history of Éire and Ulster. Atmospheric and thoughtful.
The Hillbilly Moon Explosion – “Call Me” For the Blondie fans (and we know you’re out there), this rockabilly reworking is a delight. Bold, stylish, and — dare we say — giving the original a proper run for its money.
Pokey LaFarge – “So Long Chicago” (Live) Warm, nostalgic, and the musical equivalent of stepping into a smoky bar somewhere off Route 66.
Emmanuel Chabrier – “Habanera” Because sometimes you need a little French orchestral swagger to balance out the guitars.
A Question to End On
We’ll finish with a small musical puzzle. Can you think of any other song titles made up entirely of numbers, like “5‑4‑3‑2‑1” by Manfred Mann? There must be more, but none spring to mind. Suggestions welcome.
This Week’s Playlist
Anonymous Ulster – Altnaveighhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5z6_MLZt5V4.. (youtube.com in Bing).
To mark a decade of redefining the music‑theatre landscape, Night Owl Shows return to theSpaceUK with four brand‑new productions celebrating some of the most influential artists in pop history. From Bowie’s cosmic reinventions to Madonna’s cultural dominion, Phil Collins’ unlikely ascent to ABBA’s immaculate songcraft, this year’s programme promises a festival of stories, sound and sheer emotional voltage.
There are Fringe institutions, and then there are Fringe rituals — the things audiences build their Augusts around. Night Owl Shows have long crossed that threshold. Their blend of forensic musical storytelling, powerhouse musicianship and emotional intelligence has earned them a loyal following across continents. For their 10th birthday, they’re not just celebrating; they’re detonating a glitter bomb over the programme.
This August, at their spiritual home of theSpaceUK, Night Owl unveil four brand‑new UK premieres, each honouring a titan of modern music: Phil Collins, David Bowie, Madonna, and ABBA. It’s a line‑up that reads like a syllabus for the last half‑century of pop — and a reminder that Night Owl’s great gift is not imitation, but illumination. They don’t just perform the songs; they excavate the lives, the cultural weather, the seismic shifts that made those songs matter.
Below, we break down the four new productions — each one a world premiere or UK debut — and why they’re set to be among the most coveted tickets of Fringe 2026.
Phil Collins is often reduced to the meme, the drum fill, the soft‑rock shorthand. Night Owl’s new production insists on the full story: the drummer who stepped out from behind the kit and reshaped the sound of the 1980s.
Fronted by three‑time Adelaide Music Award winner Angus Munro, this show charts Collins’ ascent from Genesis stalwart to global solo force. Expect the emotional architecture of In the Air Tonight, the bruised romanticism of Against All Odds, the sheer pop exuberance of Sussudio, and the Genesis canon — Invisible Touch, That’s All, I Can’t Dance — reframed with fresh clarity.
Munro’s voice is a weapon, and paired with Night Owl’s trademark narrative spine, this becomes less a tribute and more a reckoning with Collins’ legacy: the craft, the vulnerability, the improbable stardom of a man who never set out to be front and centre.
There is no artist more mythologised — or more misunderstood — than David Bowie. Night Owl’s world‑premiere production approaches him not as a museum piece, but as a restless cultural engine whose ideas still shape the world we live in.
Led by Peter Marchant and an all‑star band, The Bowie Story traces the shapeshifter’s evolution through the songs that defined entire eras: Space Oddity, Life on Mars?, Heroes, Let’s Dance and beyond. But the show’s power lies in its dramaturgy — the way it threads Bowie’s reinventions through the political, sexual and aesthetic revolutions he helped catalyse.
Night Owl have always excelled at contextualising genius without embalming it. Here, they offer Bowie not as nostalgia, but as a live wire — a reminder that pop can be philosophy, theatre, provocation and solace all at once.
To tell Madonna’s story is to tell the story of modern pop itself — ambition, reinvention, provocation, survival. Night Owl’s new production, starring Voice of the Fringe 2025 Maia Elsey, embraces that scale with a confidence befitting its subject.
Elsey, already a Fringe favourite, leads audiences through the eras: the downtown grit of Like a Virgin, the moral panic of Papa Don’t Preach, the spiritual electronica of Ray of Light, and the countless reinventions in between. Backed by a dynamite band, she captures not just the sound but the ferocity — the unapologetic self‑authorship that made Madonna the most successful female artist in history.
This is Madonna as cultural architect, as lightning rod, as blueprint. A world premiere that promises both spectacle and substance.
ABBA’s story is often told as glitter and Eurovision kitsch, but Night Owl’s world‑premiere production digs deeper: four musicians navigating fame, heartbreak and global adoration, crafting some of the most structurally perfect pop songs ever written.
From the early days to the Eurovision breakthrough, from the studio alchemy to the emotional undercurrents that shaped their later work, ABBA: The Journey reframes the band as both phenomenon and human story. Expect the euphoric highs — Dancing Queen, Mamma Mia, The Winner Takes It All — delivered with the musicianship Night Owl are known for, but also the narrative threads that reveal why these songs endure.
It’s a celebration, yes, but also a study in craft: how four voices and two marriages produced a catalogue that still defines joy for millions.
A Decade of Night Owl — and a Summer Worth Counting Down To
Ten years in, Night Owl Shows have become one of the Fringe’s most reliable sources of catharsis — productions that honour the artists we love while interrogating the worlds that shaped them. This year’s quartet feels like a culmination: four icons, four seismic stories, four chances to remember why live music‑theatre can still feel like revelation.
Tickets are already moving fast across theSpaceUK and official Fringe retailers. If you’re planning your August, start your countdown now. Night Owl’s 10th birthday looks set to be the summer’s defining soundtrack.
1954 BBC television production reviewed by Anthony C Green
Click on image to view or buy
Introduction
A repeat showing of this production in 1977 was almost certainly my first exposure, as a largely apolitical fifteen-year-old, to Orwell’s masterpiece. I watched it with my friend Neil (RIP). I can’t vouch for how much of it we understood, and it would be another three or four years before I first tackled the book.
Though I might not have initially ‘got’ the world of 1984 and its political message during my initial viewing of the recording of this live television production, in murky, spotty, unrestored black and white. But it must have had an impact, because every time I’ve read the book since, perhaps on four occasions all the way through, I’ve pictured Winston Smith as Peter Cushing, who played the lead in the play.
Even the great John Hurt, who did a fine job with the role in the film version that was released, somewhat inevitably in the real 1984, didn’t succeed in separating the two in my mind.
As well as Orwell’s iconic novel itself, this production and the 1984 film, I’ve also read and reviewed the book Julia by Sandra Newman, a retelling of the story from the point of view of Winston Smith’s eponymous lover rather than that of Winston Review: Julia By Sandra Newman, and an excellent theatrical production by the Bath Playhouse theatre company here in Liverpool last year, which I also reviewed 1984 Play Review: A Dystopian Masterpiece | Counter Culture
So, I can now justifiably claim a decent grounding in the world and mythos of the story, and having picked up the DVD/Blu Ray physical media combo restoration of this first attempt to bring Orwell’s nightmare vision to life visually for the British public, I thought it would be interesting to take a second look, almost five decades after my first, and more than seven decades since it first aired.
1984 Pre 1954
We should perhaps first remind ourselves that this wasn’t an adaptation of some dusty old classic of English literature. The production took place a mere five years after the novel was first published, and only four after the death of Orwell.
The first radio adaptation of the book was broadcast on American radio in 1949, while the author was still around. I don’t know if he ever got to hear it.
The idea of a television adaptation had been knocking around the BBC before even that. They had been quick to obtain the rights to dramatise the novel from Orwell that year, when it quickly became clear that the book was an instant classic.
As it turned out, the Americans once again got there first with a CBS production in 1953.
A limited amount of the footage from the recording of this has survived. Still, the consensus is that it wasn’t great, and with only fifty minutes of runtime, excluding the advertisements of which we were blessedly free in the UK in those far-off pre-commercial TV days, it’s hard to see how it could have been.
The BBC production, was always going to be a big deal, what today we would call ‘event TV’, ultimately broadcast less than a year-and-a-half after what was almost inarguably the world’s first ever TV event, the Coronation of Queen Elizabeth 11, for which many British families specifically bought their first television set, with many others crowding the living rooms of the only families in their street who had.
A script had been commissioned in late 1953, written by one Hugh Faulks in consultation with Orwell’s widow Sonia, with the hope of airing in April 1954.
However, when Rudolph Cartier was hired as Director/Producer, he rejected Faulk’s script, pushing back the broadcast by eight months.
Cartier was a German Jew who was already a well-established and successful film director when he fled the Nazi regime for Britain in 1936.
It was his work on the Quatermass Experiment in 1953 that secured him the 1984 job. This had served as the British public’s first introduction to television Science Fiction/Horror, and it had been a massive success.
The character of Professor Quatermass had been the creation of Nigel Kneale, who also wrote the script for the six-part series. He and Cartier had next worked together on an adaptation of Wuthering Heights, and Cartier, a man with a reputation for getting his own way, had made it a precondition for accepting the 1984 job that Kneale write the script.
It’s primarily to these two individuals, to their skill, courage and persistence, who we owe a debt of gratitude for the play being as good as it turned out to be.
The Cast
With the BBC having agreed to his demand to have Kneale on board, Cartier assembled a great team of actors, almost all of whom had experience in both film and theatre work, as well as the new-fangled medium of television, which was crucial given the potential pitfalls of attempting to bring such a dark and complex novel to life on the small screen under the technical and financial limitations of the day.
Peter Cushing was still three years away from The Curse of Frankenstein, the film that made him a household name and would forever associate him in the minds of the viewing public with the Horror genre, as well as launching Hammer Film Studios as the home of great British horror.
But even in 1954, though not quite yet a ‘star’, he would already have been a familiar face to cinema goers and the smaller numbers of television viewers.
Yvonne Mitchell was given the role of Julia. She’d played Cathy in the recent Cartier/Kneale Wuthering Heights, a role for which she’d received criticism for being too tall, and that this had detracted from the essential manliness of a Heathcliffe played by the relatively diminutive Richard Todd.
There are relatively few speaking roles in the adaptation, and the minimum number of Extras they could get away with while remaining credible. But there are still several faces and names who are still familiar to viewers of a certain generation to this day, including the great Donald Pleasance as Syme, Andre Morell as O’Brien, and Wilfred Bramble who appears first as ‘Old Man’ early in the play, a decade before he became the Dirty Old Man in Steptoe and Son (and the ‘very clean’ old man in the Beatles A Hard Day’s Night), before reappearing towards the end as ‘Thin Prisoner’ following Winston and Julia’s incarnation.
All involved, cast and crew, played their part in creating a dark, sinister tone that was fully in keeping with the spirit of Orwell’s novel.
The Broadcast
The play was first broadcast on December 12th 1954. As was the norm, the bulk of the production was performed live by the actors, though with some pre-filmed insets. As I mentioned, this was a lavish production by the standards of the time. For one thing, it had a whopping one hour, fifty minutes running time (more than double that of the CBS production), including a five-minute interval, allowing viewers the chance to use the toilet, which in many cases would have involved braving the cold of a British winter in their backyard, or to make a nice cup of tea, the actors an opportunity to catch their breath and perhaps have a quick ciggy, and the crew time to, in the words of Cartier, ‘move the furniture around.’
Although the actors would also have had short breaks during the insets, almost two hours is still a long time for actors to perform with no possibility of a retake, and it took meticulous planning by Cartier and crew to make the whole thing work.
When Mark Gattis produced a live recreation of the Quatermass Experiment on BBC Four in 2005, starring himself and David Tennant, they under-ran by a full twenty minutes, which is an indication of how difficult working in the television medium would have been five decades earlier, when live productions were, by necessity, the norm.
1984 ran to time almost to the second, and, as far as I can tell, nobody once fluffed a line or missed their mark.
The scale of the production is also indicated by the BBC’s agreement to the use of an original musical score, written by John Hotchkis, for which he conducted a 17-piece orchestra in an adjacent studio as the play went out, instead of the customary pre-recorded, canned incidental music.
The composition does its job of enhancing the bleak, sinister nature of the work, and the knowledge that it was being played live by real musicians as the production was being beamed into people’s homes via aerials mounted on chimney pots also adds to our appreciation of how ambitious this project was for the time.
We don’t have precise figures for the cost, but it’s believed the budget rose from an original allocation of around £2000 to an eventual figure closer to £3000.
Credit is due to the BBC for giving Kneale and Cartier the freedom and the money to do it their way.
The pre-filmed insets include a recreation of Winston visiting the ‘Prole’ sector, where he discovers the antique shop and its owner, which ultimately leads to his downfall. That these were shot on London streets still recovering from the damage inflicted by the Luftwaffe only a decade or so earlier, and the period black and white realist style of the production, plays a big part in establishing an atmosphere in keeping with the book to a degree that has still never been equalled.
It’s also worth noting that wartime rationing had only come to an end in Britain the year before. Viewers would therefore have had direct and recent, and in some cases ongoing, if less severe, experience of the shortages and lack of choice depicted, which can only have added to the play’s powerful impression.
The premise that the nature of the society with which the story is concerned had its origins in the aftermath of a nuclear war would have also been resonant in these early days of the Cold War, only nine years after the atomic bomb was unleashed on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
It was also, of course, only a year or so since the death of Stalin, upon whom Big Brother was clearly modelled.
The familiar picture of Big Brother (actually a member of the design crew who happened to have the right moustache) continues to stare out from the screen during the Interval, which is included in the physical media version.
This was a clever artistic choice by Cartier that still holds power today, perhaps even more so now than then. Even back in 1954, there were dark rumours that the televisions rapidly becoming commonplace in people’s homes were not simply transmitters but also receivers with the ability to ‘watch the watchers.’
Perhaps, that’s not quite so far-fetched now, in the era of ‘Smart’ TVs.
Big Brother is watching you?
The play was initially shown in the Sunday Night Theatre slot usually reserved for classic adaptations like Wuthering Heights, or genteel so-called ‘Comedies of Manners,’ sometimes broadcast directly from actual theatrical performances.
That 1984 was shown in this slot led to controversy, as we will come to shortly.
As was customary, the cast and crew reconvened for a repeat performance four days later. The reasoning behind this was that the second performance would generally be better than the first, because all concerned would have had the opportunity to learn from mistakes and iron out any logistical problems with the initial production.
Cushing always insisted that the Sunday night version was better, that a certain amount of spontaneity and energy was lost the second time around.
We’ll never be able to assess the validity of this because, as was also customary, only the second performance was recorded for posterity.
Given the common practice at the BBC of reusing tapes for other shows, a practice that continued into the 1970s (and of which Johnny-Come-Lately ITV was also guilty), we are fortunate that this recording survived to be enjoyed by viewers today.
Controversy and Mythology
This controversy arose in the four-day gap between the two performances.
It was real enough, but it has been rather exaggerated over the years, largely through later interviews with both Cartier and Kneale, especially the latter, who became skilled in the art of enhancing reality through the judicious use of embellishment.
The mythologised version of what happened is that the first showing was immediately followed by an outcry in the press at such horrors being inflicted on the viewing public, especially on a Sunday, and in the run-up to Christmas, with questions raised in parliament, and consideration given to cancelling the second performance completely.
The mood changed, so the story goes, when Prince Philip made an offhand comment at some function or other about how much he and his wife, our young and popular new Queen, had enjoyed the production.
The reality is that the critical reaction in the newspapers had been almost wholly positive. The exception was the Daily Worker, the paper of the Communist Party of Great Britain (forerunner of today’s Morning Star), which had long denounced Orwell as a Trotskyist and his works as anti-Soviet propaganda. Their cultural critic attacked the play as portraying a ‘Tory guttersnipe version of socialism.’
There were, however, and this is where the kernel of truth in the myth lies, plenty of letters to the press by outraged viewers, which were duly reported by the newspapers. Most of these did indeed cite the sanctity of Sundays as a day of religious observance, or at least of wholesome family relaxation, not a day for infesting their living rooms with dystopian visions of a nightmare future, especially in the run-up to Christmas.
A small number of MPs questioned whether such horror was in keeping with the ‘Educate, Entertain and Inform’ Reithian values on which the BBC had been founded. But the issue wasn’t formally debated in parliament.
The Daily Express, perhaps sensing an opportunity to capitalise on the response of some of its readers, ran with a sensationalist headline concerning a woman dying whilst watching the play. She had suffered a fatal heart attack while doing the ironing, but it seems unlikely there was any connection between this and what she happened to be watching on TV at the time.
Prince Philip’s remark concerning him and the Queen having watched and enjoyed the play seems to be true, but this had no great impact on how it was regarded.
Certainly, the BBC never seriously considered cancelling the second performance.
However, they did begin the second airing with a few minutes of what we would today call a ‘trigger-warning,’ in which the head of BBC drama, Michael Barry warned that some viewers may find some of what they were about to see disturbing, and concluded with hope that they would retain more hope for the future than was to found in the play. Thankfully, this has also been retained in the physical media release.
1984 After 1954
A film version, also with Donald Pleasence in the cast, but with no involvement from Kneale and Cartier, was released in 1956. That’s available on YouTube. It clearly owes much to its predecessor, but lacks its power and authenticity, and somewhat misses the point of the novel by implying a happy ending for Winston and Julia.
In 1965, the BBC attempted to repeat the 1954 experience with another theatrical TV production, not performed live, but using Kneale’s original script with a few changes.
This was part of a three-play series produced under the umbrella title of The World Of George Orwell. Sadly,1984 is the only adaptation that survives. You can also watch this free online, but again this doesn’t quite hit the mark, and is ruined, for me, early on by making the Goldstein character on the telescreen during the ‘Two-Minute Hate’ look and sound more like a comedic parody than a sinister, counter-revolutionary receptacle for the repressed frustrations of the Party rank and file.
In addition to the version that was released in 1984 itself, there’s also a joint Russian/Finnish film production made in 2023, which I’ve just become aware of, and will be renting on Amazon soon.
Conclusion
The 1954 production is a historical television landmark that, unlike so much vintage television, we are fortunate to have survived for us to view and enjoy today.
I still regard it as the definitive adaptation, with a great script, great acting, and an atmosphere fully in keeping with the original novel.
It is available to rent or buy on Amazon. But I highly recommend the relatively inexpensive DVD/Blu-ray set for its excellent Special Features, from which I gained most of my information for this article.
In whatever form you choose to watch it, watch it you should.
Anthony C Green, August 2025
PS This satire of the production from January 1955 is worth a listen. The popularity and importance of The Goons, and their influence on artists such as John Lennon and the Mony Python team, is hard to understand today. Their humour hasn’t dated well, but this works well as an entertaining and affectionate dig at the BBC itself, and it adds a little more to our knowledge and understanding of how the Cartier/Kneale play was regarded at the time.
Blues, whisky, and a room full of willing conspirators — few Fringe shows blend music, storytelling and guided tasting with the swagger and charm of 2 Guys, 3 Drams. Now entering their fourth consecutive Edinburgh run, Felipe and Paul return with a fresh line‑up of whiskies, a new sponsor in InchDairnie, and the same mission as ever: to turn a room of strangers into one merry, whisky‑swigging organism. Counter Culture asked the duo to talk drams, blues, audience alchemy, and why their show title is technically a lie…
