What would give in exchange for your Soul? That’s the bluegrass song from the Hillybilly Thomists that plays before and after this short pop opera begins. For Faustine, the last twenty pages of her PhD dissertation on Ibsen will cost her her soul.
Faustine’s not one of the cool kids, she’s been raised by her mother, whom she resents bitterly, especially her regular nagging phone calls. She’s lonely and – despite her protestations to the contrary – she’s lazy. She leaves it too late to complete her work and cries out in despair. Help comes, not from God, but from Satan. She gets an A grade, the opportunity to deliver her dissertation to a conference and a publishing deal with Princeton University.
Things spiral out of control; she has sex with a senior academic, Richard Jones. She turns to drugs.
“I’m done with the losing team. So what if I sold my soul, when you feel you’re on top?” Satan demands another soul. She murders her room mate Emma, putting bleach in wine and making it look like suicide.
The co-writers, Sarah Norcross and Lydia Brinkmann, fight at the start to play Faustine. I don’t know which one prevailed at the showing I saw, but she brought a perfect mixture of pathos, comedy, and horror to this production. The songs were witty and well-scripted, worthy of Cole Porter having a dark turn. The actor carries off the transition back and forward between Faustine and Satan by facial expression and clever lighting.
The words of the third song, ‘How long have I wanted everything to come easy?’ Conjure thoughts on the current controversy over many students using AI to do their work for them. Perhaps it’s a stretch to say that such cheating is akin to a pact with the devil, but it is potential snare for the unwary.
The folks – mostly of a certain age – who packed the house for this short and energetic run-through the history of a band that has gone through many breakdowns, bust-ups and changes of line-up; yet managed to pull off some of the most memorable music of recent times.
Rumours sold 45 million copies and is still number 17 in the album charts today. Tusk was less successful. Mick Fleetwood blamed RKO for releasing all the tracks allowing fans to tape the songs off the radio.
Night Owl’s tributes to musical legends are always popular and seldom disappoint. The Fleetwood Mac Story had many people up and dancing in the aisles. The only complaint I heard from audience members was, ‘It was too short.’ It was sheer musical bliss.
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.
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.
Poppy Radcliffe in conversation with Pat Harrington
How do you hold a system to account while it’s holding you? That’s the question pulsing beneath SECTIONED – Schrödinger’s Mental Health, the raw, poetic, and politically charged solo show from neurodiverse performer Poppy Radcliffe. In it, Radcliffe takes the audience on an unflinching journey through nine years of coercive psychiatric intervention—including eight sectionings, the most recent of which occurred just weeks before this year’s Fringe.
Blending slam poetry with sharp commentary, she takes a scalpel to a system that asks patients to be simultaneously unwell enough to detain yet well enough to self-manage. The “Schrödinger” metaphor, far from a gimmick, becomes a lived paradox—a way to interrogate the cruel logic of mental health bureaucracy where diagnosis justifies surveillance and vulnerability is met with suspicion.
Here, Poppy speaks candidly about the trauma of being detained, the institutional failures she’s endured, and her hopes for poetic protest as a catalyst for reform. In this moving and urgent interview, she lays bare the contradictions of a system that claims to care, but too often punishes, isolates, and invalidates. What follows is both testimony and artistic mission statement—one that may well leave you changed.
About the Show and Creative Approach
What inspired the title SECTIONED – Schrödinger’s Mental Health, and how does the quantum metaphor shape both the narrative arc and audience experience?
The title Schrödinger’s Mental Health is a reference to two things being true at the same time. When dealing with the mental health services, it often feels like you are expected to be both well and ill simultaneously. You are expected to accept life long ill health and medication but act calmer and more together than people without diagnosis. If one is well why can’t there even be consideration to reduce medication? If one is ill, why do you get no practical support?
The show asks the question: am I ill or am I well, because I surely can’t be both?
You describe the piece as part crushing poetry and part TED talk. How do you balance raw, confessional verse with the more structured, informational elements?
This is one of my favourite aspects of the show. The show transitions smoothly from the prose parts to the poetry, with the poems chosen to highlight the emotional impact of the policies on the patient, there is no stop and start between them.
Your debut show was shortlisted as “best emerging artist” at Brighton and won Best Neurodiverse Performance. How has that early recognition influenced your creative process this year?
It has certainly given me confidence that the show will be well received. Writing this show has been incredibly difficult, it is a scary thing to stand up and say that a system that is universally loved and believed to be doing the best they can is in fact failing as many people as it helps. Winning the outstanding neurodiverse performance award at Brighton was an honor and a shock, until I received the nomination, I wasn’t even aware that any awards people had seen the show. It made me feel that there really was a chance that the show and story could get noticed at Edinburgh this year, which is both everything I want and also terrifying as the thought of being the face of mental ill health in the UK brings its own level of anxiety.
Anxiety that got so high that my most recent sectioning was between Brighton and Edinburgh 2025. I had to take the mental health services to a tribunal (independent legal process to determine whether I should be released from section) in order to get released in time to perform at the fringe this year. A tribunal I won and I am very proud of that as apparently that is rare. In a weird way I am grateful that I had recent experience of a ward, it had been 2.5 years since I was last in and it is easy to forget the horror, but if anything they are worse than they ever were.
It has thrown into contrast the general public perception of myself and the perception of the services, the former seeming to have faith and the latter, that I am only trying to help, still doubting my sanity.
Talking Sectioning and Inpatient Care
You’ve been sectioned eight times in nine years. Can you walk us through the most jarring moments during the AMHP and medical assessments—what questions or procedures stay with you?
My first sectioning and last sectionings were the most jarring. The first happened three months after the separation from my husband at a time when I felt as mentally well as I have ever done. I slipped up, over did things and got arrested for drunk and disorderly, not my finest moment but in my view understandable given the circumstances and it was the first time ever in my life. When I left the cell the next morning, the second lieutenant said to me “Don’t worry, a lot of people who go on to do amazing things have records for drunk and disorderly”. I felt seen, supported and ready to repay their faith in me by buckling down and working.
I got sectioned two days later after nothing more than a row with my parents who didn’t know how to handle the arrest. In that meeting, and it was until recently the only one that I had seen the section notes of, I was called delusional for believing I could build a database (my area of expertise), they commented that my speak was laboured when talking about my parents, people who had broken a promise and with whom I had always had a difficult relationship. At the time I was a satellite engineer, I may have used the term “rocket scientist” a slight exaggeration. The section notes wrote there were “elements of truth”. I felt that they saw a distressed woman and formed their own conclusions when there was nothing at that point to be worried about. That decision was the start of my mental distress, not the culmination of it.
In general, I could not tell you what parts hurt the most because I have not been given access to what they have written about me, you are almost periphery to the decision process about your own future.
The most recent sectioning hurt because prior to it, I had spent a week trying to get myself voluntarily committed. I called an ambulance on myself 8 times, because I was so mentally unwell that it was also physically ill, an interconnect between my mental and physical health now being something I deal with on a daily basis. The ambulance came 5 times and each time wrote me a note, saying “Talk to your sister” or on one “If you experience unconsciousness, dial 999” which is impossible advice and then left without me. I honestly thought I was going to die and they left me and only sectioned me after I had recovered my strength. Yes I damaged church property, but if I committed a crime whilst psychotic then charge me with a crime and allow me to tell my side of the story. It is not right to lock people up with no ability to advocate for themselves.
Mind’s guide to sectioning stresses the right to an interpreter, a friend present, and full explanations of each stage. Which of these rights did you find most critical in preserving your dignity, and where did the system fall short?
None of these were offered for any of my admissions, I was not even aware until this interview that I had a right to have a friend with me at the assessment phase and have never done so. The explanations for the treatment tend to amount to “We believe you need medication” but no explanation given to what exactly they believe they are treating.
I can not think of any way that the system has not failed, nearly all actions in my life that sound shameful were during the sectioning process at first admission to a ward.
Looking back at your ward admissions, which practical changes—big or small—would have transformed a punitive experience into a genuinely therapeutic one?
The key thing I would change would be the welcome. Arriving at a ward is scary, no one greats you. You are just dumped and left to wait. It’s a minor change but if you were met by a nurse and given a cup of tea and taken to a quiet place to talk and have the rules of the ward explained to you, I think this could do wonders to transform the experience. The first time I was in a ward, I had my phone confiscated after putting a post on Facebook trying to track down a woman’s partner. She had been picked up and taken with no notice and no ability to get a message, believing he may have thought she just left, she was desperate to reach him. I thought I was doing a good thing, no one had explained to me that you weren’t allowed to post publicly about patients and for doing so they confiscated my phone, my only link to normality. It was just hours after this that the first signs of psychosis occurred in my mind. Something I had never experienced before I was sectioned that first time.
So give a proper explanation and tour.
Also the way they deal with medication is atrocious. You go into a ward and are handed small pots of pills to take throughout the day, you are often not even told what they are or what they are supposed to be treating. Medication can be transformative is done right, my sister is the poster child for the positive effects of the right medication, but in wards they do not listen to you when you say that the pills they are giving you are not right. People in mental wards are not stupid, they are the ones with lived experience of the medication, believe them and listen to them about what they are struggling with and try different meds with their agreement until you find something that actually works. Nobody wants to be chaotic, no one wants to be in distress. The arrival of the mental health services should feel like the cavalry has arrived, in reality it often feels like shelling from the enemy.
Systemic Reflections and Remedies
You argue that a successful service is one that makes itself redundant. From your research and lived experience, what three concrete tweaks to acute inpatient wards would most accelerate that goal?
1: Believe what the patients are telling you. You do not end up in a mental ward because you have a supportive family and good people around you. In my most recent admission I was called delusional for believing in the threat to my wellbeing from my neighbours, a very real threat. Even if they seem far fetched, start from a place of trust.
2. Make the services point of contact, make it easy for someone to self refer, have a more GP like system for appointment, mental health does not occur on a regular monthly basis, if a crisis happens, they must respond quickly. Conversely don’t force people to appointments when they have nothing that they need to discuss.
3. Make people create recovery plans as well as crisis plans. The services always insist you make a crisis plan for what they should do in an emergency. It forces you to think about the past and your ill health and then, at least in my case when a crisis hits, is not followed anyway. There is currently no concept of a recovery plan. Allow people to think about a positive future, allow them to define the steps they need to take to experience good mental health again. The mind is an incredibly malleable organ, the viewset that once you become ill, you will always be ill is in my opinion not only wrong but self fulfilling. If you do not have positive encouragement from friends and family, you need it from the services and this is something they currently don’t provide.
In preparing the show you must have come across pockets of best practice. Which trusts or units seemed closest to “care that empowers recovery,” and what lessons do they offer?
The most positive thing I experienced in a ward was one ward that held weekly patient and staff feedback meetings where you could give your opinion on what had been good and bad the previous week and what you would like to see going forward. There was also a particular nurse one time who always seemed genuinely pleased to see me and was always available for a chat and who even came in on her day off because it was the day I was being released just to say goodbye. Her kindness has stuck with me to this day.
Underfunding and staffing shortages are chronic issues. How might frontline practitioners advocate for incremental improvements—say, in ward layout or daily routine—that cost little but yield outsized benefits?
They say they are understaffed but there are loads of staff on the wards they just sit around. We do not need more staff, they need to change the way the staff are trained and the processes they have to follow. Staff sitting around all day just watching the patients does nothing. I once saw a nurse on 1 to 1 sitting by and watching a patient hitting her head against the wall till it bled. There is a never ending stream of people wanting to work in mental health, let them actually help.
Neurodiversity, Performance, and Stigma
Winning the neurodiverse performance award at Brighton Fringe must have felt momentous. How has that validation shaped the way you frame the show’s themes for audiences unfamiliar with neurodiversity?
I touch on the topic of my autism during the show and indeed it is the autistic neurodiversity that I most associate with. At the time it was given and to some extent, to this day, I am very uneasy with the bipolar diagnosis that I also have. It is a very common misdiagnosis for autism. I try to show the positives of autism, I was a natural at maths and physics in my youth and I liked my honesty. As I say in the show, I fail to see how an intense interest in subjects and difficulty lying can be considered negative traits and not attributes to aspire to.
You’re reaching people who’ve never spent a night on a psychiatric ward. How do you tailor your language and imagery so that lived-experience audiences feel seen, while newcomers remain engaged without feeling overwhelmed?
I focus on a few key moments in the process, particularly on the initial greeting and the overwhelming boredom that is the most prevalent emotion in the wards. The poetry adds depth to the descriptions as they are poems that were written at the times of the stories so show the emotional impact. I am trying to show that wards don’t often feel like places of recovery but places where distress is exacerbated by a system that says it cares but where the staff tend to seem aloof and disparaging, which is the opposite of what someone going through trauma needs. There are good sides, the craft groups that are sadly becoming rarer especially providing some respite to the monotony.
Performance art can crack through stigma in ways policy papers never will. What moments in the show do you think resonate most in shifting public empathy?
This is a tricky one, I think the most impactful poem in the show is one called help
Don’t tell me that you’re helping
When your help is nothing thus………….
Don’t tell me you don’t see them
The hopeless, disenchanted mass………
I’m hoping that this will encourage people to open their eyes. The same actions with different motivations can be good or bad. That we live in a society now that seems to support the bullies and those that shout loudest rather than the gentle and those trying to obey the laws. There are thousands of people struggling and when the care criticises and leaves you alone it does less good than kind words and practical assistance.
I have tried to make the show as light as possible but I hope it shocks people into realising that the “care” provided by the acute services is very different to that provided for less intensive situations and that there is a significant difference to receiving help you have requested than having help you don’t necessarily want thrust upon you
Just let me lick my wounds in peace
And somehow make it through at least .
Future Directions and Impact
You’ve said that after Edinburgh you want to use your birth name, Robyn, and move into standup comedy. How do you envision translating your poetic confessions into a comedic set—what stays, what goes?
The poetry and standup I think will become separate. I love poetry but social reform is really what I’m aiming for. My recent poetry is much lighter than the stuff included in the show, in part because my mindset is much lighter now. I have one called “we’re doing AI backwards” which is a piece about wanting AI to help me search and categorise existing human made art rather than create art for me and I even wrote my first love poem a few months ago. I’ve signed up for a comedy course starting in October. I do not know yet how successful it will be but I’ve done a lot of absurd things in my struggle to survive and I hope to uplift people by being vocal about the rubbish I have done and showing that the past is not the future. We all deserve a fresh start.
Of course if Edinburgh goes well, I will consider touring this show, I hope to do a London date in the autumn.
Beyond moving seats in Laughing Horse’s Little Cellar, what change in policy or public mindset would you love this show to catalyze over the next year?
I want to blow the doors off the whole system, though I know this can not be done in a year. There is a brilliant book called Fragile Minds by a mental health nurse called Bella Jackson who sees the same problems that I see with judgement, disbelief and lack of care. I’m hoping together we can start a movement for reform.
I am also hoping to get actively involved as an expert by experience or peer worker within the wards, my dream is to run poetry groups within wards and within time to publish and anthology called “Poetry from the wards” to show the world that many of the people detained in mental wards are gentle, good people trying to get their lives back on track.
If you could pose one urgent question—about rights, resources, recovery—to a mental health commissioner, what would you ask, and what would your ideal answer sound like?
Good question.
Why are there more opportunities for convicts in prison to upskill and start again than there are patients in mental wards?
My ideal answer would be:
Many people in wards are only there for short periods, (but this is not true, many people are there for 6 months going onto years). I would like them to recognise that heavy sedative medication prevents people from really engaging in meaningful recovery, to acknowledge the empty craft and therapy rooms and suggest that a move towards more holistic therapy and practical help and guidance could have better results.
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 showso we asked Edy.
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!
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?
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.)
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.
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
Fringe can be overwhelming at the best of times—how do you navigate performing with neurodivergence in a festival environment like this?
Comedy’s had a big reckoning with labels, diagnoses, identity. Are you part of a wave that’s doing away with shame?
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%
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.
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.
Pat Harrington asked Daniel Macdonald about his fascinating play Iago Speaks performing at the Edinburgh Fringe 2025.
1. What first inspired you to pick up Iago’s story immediately after Othello, and how did that spark relate to your interest in language and silence?
Iago is one of the few Shakespearean villains, if not the only villain, who does not die at the end of the play and who is simply carted off with the promise that he will be tortured. I started to muse about what that might mean. Was he just languishing in a prison cell somewhere? The problem was that I was intent on writing a comedy but somehow using Iago as the catalyst for the story.
2. How did you arrive at the idea of pairing Iago with his traditionally silent Jailer as a comedy duo that interrogates power through speech and its absence?
The contrast between the two characters was the ultimate tool or weapon I used to explore language. By their nature, they most likely would use language very differently. And so this comedic motif of having a sense of miscommunication became one of my sources for comedy in the play.
3. In practical terms, what challenges did you face writing and staging a character bound by a vow of silence, and how did those constraints shape Iago’s arc?
My own question as a playwright was about how long I would keep Iago silent? And was this intentionally going to be a plot point in the play? In other words, is Iago ever going to speak? Well, the play is called Iago Speaks and so it is not meant to be a surprise that eventually he does speak. It is more about the how and why he speaks that became interesting to me. And this is all as a result of the presence/existence of his Jailer.
4. The press release calls the play “a profound exploration of its own art form.” How do you balance laugh-out-loud comedy with moments of meta-theatrical reflection on words and storytelling?
I’m not sure. It just works. Mainly it works because The Jailer is somehow slightly aware that he is part of something else that he is not quite able to identify. He is searching for a purpose as to why he is even there in the first place. In my play, The Jailer represents a sort of everyman character who keeps showing up in other Shakespearean tragedies with nothing to do except to hold a spear. But even then, he feels he is useful. But with Iago in this dungeon cell there seems to be no purpose to his function at all. And this raises further questions for him.
5. Early audiences in Saskatoon and Winnipeg praised the show’s absurdity. Did their feedback prompt you to sharpen the themes of nonverbal communication and unspoken motives?
Not really. Mainly any rewrites I did we’re focused on new discoveries around playfulness and silences without extending the play but in fact rather tightening it at any opportunity.
6. The Jailer’s quest to “make a name for himself” drives an existential thread. How did you weave questions of identity and purpose into the play’s humour and tension?
We know what Iago’s purpose is. He is simply a collection of characteristics created by a playwright. I was, in some ways, intent on maintaining his character, his essence, in the way we understand it. But the jailer? He is an anonymous nobody. A tabula rasa. He, on the other hand, admires Iago for his purpose, his singular intent, and his ability with language. The Jailer, at least in his own mind, has none of this and so decides to, in some way, emulate Iago.
9. How do staged silences, carefully timed pauses, and physical gestures serve to heighten suspense and underscore hidden truths?
They primarily serve the purpose of creating a sense of emptiness; a void of nothingness where nothing seems to be what it is and nothing is happening. What I hope this does is allow the audience to begin to empathize with The Jailer and his longing for something to happen; for something “dramatic” to occur. Finally, I think it begins to motivate The Jailer to take some action on his own.
11. For Fringe audiences unfamiliar with Othello, how do you ensure the thematic stakes around language’s power and the weight of silence remain clear?
You do not have to know anything about Shakespeare, Othello or Iago to love and understand the play. The Jailer takes care of all of this for us. In addition, the play is not really so connected to Shakespeare’s Othello that we need to know or understand that story. We know all we need to know though what information The Jailor provides.
12. When Iago finally breaks his vow, that single utterance carries enormous weight. How did you craft that moment to maximize its thematic resonance?
It is not that Iago finally speaks that is significant. It is why he speaks that makes all the difference in the play and in how we come to understand The Jailer.
13. The play frequently winks at Shakespeare and breaks the fourth wall. How do these meta-theatrical moments shape our understanding of the theatrical process itself?
There is some attempt in the play to breakdown some of the pretense that lives in theatre. The collapse of the 4th wall is again a way to explore and have fun with the very nature of what theatre is and ultimately what the audience’s role is in it.
14. With dialogue partially stripped away, lighting, sound design, and movement become crucial. How did you employ these elements to convey subtext and emotion?
While sound elements are sparsely used in the play, the sounds that are used are key elements in giving us a sense of a meta-theatrical, otherworldly nature to the story. That is all I can say about that without starting to give away spoilers.
16. Rumpus is committed to new voices. How does Iago Speaks reflect your ethos of nurturing emerging talent while challenging theatrical conventions?
As a playwright I have always been keen on helping to develop new voices in playwriting. In fact, I am the coordinator and dramaturge for a theatre company in Saskatoon with a program literally called New Voices. I get excited when I read fresh and insightful writing from an emerging playwright. There simply is this desire to help them along. I feel I have insights to offer, both as a professional playwright, and a former teacher at the secondary and post-secondary levels. This element of Rumpus is my desire to continue this practice of giving back in any way I can.
17. During rehearsals, what unexpected thematic discoveries about the power or fragility of language emerged and shifted the play’s direction?
Showing rather than telling is always a key element in great writing. Much of my discovery in rehearsals and workshops was in new understandings around how little I had to “tell” in order for us to understand and appreciate the story.
18. The play’s tight 75-minute structure feels deliberate. How does this concentrated format reinforce themes of control, interruption, and narrative compression?
The play is actually probably more comfortable around the 85 minutes but has been trimmed in small ways to accommodate our 90 minute time slot at The Space UK – which always includes set-up and tear down. That said, very little has been lost or compromised in order to make the play a little more “Fringe.”
19. Beyond Fringe, how do you envision Iago Speaks evolving—perhaps in new venues or formats—to further explore language, identity, and complicity?
I am particularly interested in design elements that may illuminate new characteristics of the play that as yet have not been discovered. There are most likely a wide variety of directions new productions could go in this regard. But, as a comedy it really does have to remain true to its essence related to language and timing and so much of that will remain consistent no matter what. And while the two actors are brilliant in the production, it would be interesting, at some point, to see what another Iago/Jailer combo might do.
20. Finally, what core insight or lingering question about the power of language and the weight of silence do you hope every audience member takes away?
Ultimately, what I would hope audiences take away is a sense that, in some ways, they see themselves as The Jailer, asking the same questions of Shakespeare, theatre, and life that The Jailer asks. But mostly, I just want them to have a really good time in a theatre, watching a play. My ultimate goal was to write a fun romp of a comedy; something that allows us to forget get the state of the world right now for perhaps a few minutes. So much of theatre these days is steeped in earnestness and causes and while much of that is important and of value, to me the greatness of theatre is always in its magic and its fun.
Ahead of the Edinburgh Fringe, Pat Harrington interviews Mia Pelosi about Supermarket 86.
About the Show and Its Inspiration
For those unfamiliar, what is Supermarket 86 about, and what can audiences expect from the show?
In short, Supermarket 86 is about a cashier and four girls who get stuck in a supermarket overnight due to a blizzard. Before the lights go out, the cashier’s ex-girlfriend walks in. Over the course of one evening, they all start to realize they know each other in both simple and unexpected ways.
Audiences can expect sarcasm, wit, and dark humor, as well as pure moments of vulnerability that sneak up on both the characters and the audience. They will watch five lonely, complicated women confront their own choices, whether they want to or not.
The premise is so unique — five women trapped overnight in a grocery store during a blizzard. What inspired you to write a story set in a supermarket lockdown? Was there a particular idea or experience that sparked this scenario?
I got the idea in the summer of 2022 when I was studying theater abroad in Amsterdam. One of our assignments was to tell the story of Little Red Riding Hood, but completely recontextualize it. My group chose to tell a story of girls at a sleepaway camp talking about the abuse from boys (The big bad wolf…). Although the assignment was only a 10 minute piece, I really loved the intimacy of girls talking about subjects that they have experienced, while also feeling so distant from it. I always knew I wanted to write a show that took place in one setting. I landed at a supermarket because no one ever plans to stay in a grocery store longer than they absolutely have to; you get in, you get out. So how funny would it be if what should have been a trip to buy a six pack of beer turned into a 12 hour stay on a cold grocery store floor?
Why did you choose to set the play in 2007, in upstate New York? Does that specific time period or location hold special significance for the story’s themes or mood?
Superficially, both my director and I didn’t want the girls to have iPhones. If we set it in the present, there’s a logical assumption that the girls would distance themselves through just using their phones. By playing it in 2007, it forces them to be with each other, strangers and all. More deeply, one of our show’s main themes is queerness. Five girls discussing the intricacies of their own queerness and how it affects their familial relationships is always a heavy subject. But we felt like placing it in a time like 2007 would cause the stigma to linger in the air a bit more.
Lastly, I chose upstate New York because it is notorious for their brutal snowstorms. I have visited Ithaca a few times, and that wind chill feels like a literal slap to the face.
The title Supermarket 86 is intriguing — does “86” carry a special meaning in the context of the play? Without giving too much away, is it related to the setting, a bit of foreshadowing, or perhaps a nod to the slang “to eighty-six” something?
In full transparency, when I first wrote it, “86” simply came to my mind. It rolled off the tongue for me. However, when I began carving out the relationships between these girls (or lack thereof), I quickly noticed the connection to the phrase “eighty-six” something. So while I can’t say it was rooted in that, it developed into a nod to that phrase. Rose, the cashier, wants to “eighty-six” her ex-girlfriend right out of the store, and throughout the show, as more is revealed, the other girls also want to nix some truths about themselves. A happy coincidence for a writer!
The plot kicks off when the cashier’s ex-girlfriend unexpectedly walks in, and eventually the characters realize they’re all connected.What do these twists — the ex’s surprise arrival and the hidden connections between the women — add to the story in terms of drama or humor? How do those relationships drive the overnight adventure?
In the eyes of these girls, “all hell breaks loose”. Of course, dramatic, but when you’re in your early twenties and a 5 minute grocery run turns into an overnight stay with angry exes, peers from high school, and an aggressively positive newbie, it can easily turn chaotic. It shapes the show’s humor, which is sort of the “it’s so unbelievable that it’s funny” mentality. The sheer absurdity of the situation creates drama and humor. There are no corners to cut around; these girls are stuck, face to face, for an unknown amount of hours. It’s going to be awkward regardless – may as well make the most of it. But through “making the most of it”, each relationship is tested. Rose and Summer confront their dishonesty, Rose and Peyton finally have it out, and Dove and June start to realize other connections through their own unhealthy behaviors. Not because they particularly want to, but because when you seek connection, consciously or not, you have to be willing to confront your own truth.
Characters and Themes
The show is described as a “character-driven dramedy” with five “complicated, lonely young women” at its core. What are some of the central themes you explore through these characters?The press release mentions “five different stories of queerness, conflict, and the never ending dread of the future.” Why were those themes important for you to address, and how do they unfold among the five women?
Queerness and the uncertainties of the future were my main priorities when sitting down to write. I began writing this show at the beginning of my journey with my sexuality; as writers, we are often told to “write what we know” … so I did just that. I placed my own anxieties and experiences of queerness into each girl, while vowing to also expand beyond what I experienced. I happen to have a loving family who accepts me for who I am; I am well aware not everyone gets to be that lucky. I wanted to show that queerness can be, and always is, a spectrum. Each character has a different relationship to their queerness, if at all. And without saying too much, it gets nasty between some of them when discussing it.
The never ending dread of the future is always a very common feeling among young people. When you first leave high school, college, or you’re simply navigating a loss of structure, it can feel like the ceiling is right above your head. It feels like there’s so much to figure out, and no time to do it. And for some of these girls, that sentiment leads to a sense of paralyzation; too scared to move for fear of the unknown. So when these girls are forced to admit that fear, it often feels like a personal attack, leading to more nasty arguments. As the show goes on, the girls realize how these arguments are just disguising the relatability they feel towards each other.
Can you introduce us to the five characters?Without spoiling too much, what is each of these women like, or what is each of them seeking when they end up in the supermarket that night? How do their personalities and backstories shape their interactions as the night goes on?
Rose is the cashier. She has worked at this store for about 5 years. After graduating high school, she attempted community college, but never found her groove (or motivation, to be frank). And now she feels stuck. Comfortable in her manager position, but paralyzed by her own complicity. She is blunt, often aggressive, and holds a lot of anger at the world, whether justified or not. And on this particular night, with a storm raging on, she wants nothing more than a silent store. But within five minutes, the store fills with four other women, concluding with a surprise appearance from the ex who broke her heart.
This heartbreaker is Peyton. Outwardly a preppy and uptight young woman, Peyton instinctually keeps her feelings and thoughts more guarded than the other girls in the store. In contrast to Rose, she was able to attend college even further upstate and follow her passions. This reality only adds to the immediate anger she receives from Rose upon entering the store. While Rose continues to throw both visual and verbal daggers at her, Peyton must choose whether to keep her armor up the entire night or eventually let it down and have a real conversation.
June is the humor heartbeat of the show. She just moved to Ithaca (transferring to Cornell, as she likes to remind the girls over and over again), superficially excited for something new. She simply could not have a more positive, bubbly attitude if she tried. What comes to be revealed is that she really struggles with friendships; she can’t get anything, or anyone, to stick. Therefore, when the lockdown happens, she’s secretly (or not so secretly) thrilled. She gets a chance to meet new girls.
Summer is the literal heartbeat of the show. Her ease in social settings allows the other girls to feel more comfortable. She leads the game, asking the girls personal questions about themselves; she loves to stir the pot. Like Rose, she feels stuck in Ithaca. She moved here almost a year ago with just her mom, whose presence in her life is almost none, so Summer has struck up a deep friendship with Rose. She frequents the store almost daily, finding her joy of the day with Rose. On this particular night, she is a bit high by her own admission, and comes in wanting some candy.
Dove sort of sneaks up on the audience. She is shy, reserved and quite calm. It takes the other girls to bring out her personality. She’s the first girl to walk into the store. At an immediate glance, she looks stressed out; yet she dismisses any assistance from Rose. As the night goes on, the audience starts to understand her a bit more – her extreme behaviors and constant emotional whiplash. I will keep her a bit more secret, as she has a secret of her own that is revealed later on in the show.
Even though the characters are dealing with serious personal conflicts, Supermarket 86 infuses a lot of humor into the situation.How do you balance the dark or vulnerable moments with comedy in the play? Did you consciously set out to make the audience both laugh and feel deeply, and can you share an example of how a scene walks that line between humorous and heartfelt?
Our goal was to create a show that balances humor and vulnerability because the two fundamentally exist together. Being vulnerable is incredibly scary, therefore we often compensate with humor to make ourselves feel less like our hearts are beating outside our bodies. The comedy flows in and out of conversation with ease because, whether the girls realize it or not, they have created a safe space for each other. When each girl feels comfortable revealing something, they do. It’s like a piece of ice slowly melting over time.
In one particular scene, Summer reveals a new development in her life. Rose, being her best friend, is surprised that Summer kept it from her. After a few comedic nudges from the other girls, Summer begins to explain this new development, and the sadness that comes with it. Because Summer leads with sarcasm she struggles to keep it too emotional because it becomes too uncomfortable. The humor lies in Dove and June, two girls who have never met Summer before. They make Summer (and the audience) laugh through their innocence and naivety towards Summer’s predicament. It’s a free flowing conversation between girls who have never met, and they find themselves laughing and then actively listening when someone decides to share something real.
“Fundamentally, the show is about the desire to connect and how, sometimes, you are forced to find connection in places that initially seem mundane and stagnant.”What message or insight about human connection did you want to convey by placing these characters in such an everyday setting? Did the mundane location help the themes stand out in contrast?
The main message about human connection we are trying to convey is that oftentimes, connection sneaks up on you. We wanted a mundane setting precisely because of the themes the girls discuss throughout the night. A cold and bland grocery store is the last place strangers would want to talk about their vulnerabilities. But when you are stuck there, unable to leave despite all efforts, you have two choices – you sit awkwardly in a separate aisle, or you allow the night, and these strangers, to take you away. And if even one person has the courage to open up, about college, queerness, or lost hope, a domino effect slowly begins.
I love the cheeky tagline in your press release that says audiences will leave “hoping you’ll run into your ex.”What is it about the journey these characters go through that might actually make people feel good about the idea of running into an ex? Without giving away the ending, how does the play challenge our perspective on those awkward run-ins with people from our past?
It plays with the concept of “closure” – What exactly is it? Is it necessary? What does it look like? Rose deeply struggles with these questions, as she believes the way her and Peyton’s relationship ended incredibly abruptly, with no proper conclusion. In the year and a half since they broke up, Rose has played through a million scenarios in her head of what she’d tell Peyton the next time she saw her. Yet those planned-out conversations never seem to go the way we hope, and in this case, they never take place in a supermarket, in the middle of a blizzard, with three other women. So both Rose and Peyton have to decide if they’ll let go of their obstinacy and their pride during the night, or if they’ll stay resolved to gripe at each other until the morning comes.
Creative Process and Development
You first staged Supermarket 86 as part of your senior thesis at NYU’s Tisch School, and then gave it a professional debut at the New York Theater Festival. How has the play evolved since that initial college version?Were there any significant changes or developments in the script or characters as it moved from an academic setting to a professional production and now to an international stage?
There have been so many changes to the show, that I often joke to my director about the first version being “total garbage”. Of course I say it in light humor, but it is rooted in being able to look back and see the growth of the show. The very first version could only be 35 minutes, so I had a lot to pack into such a short amount of time. Things moved far too quickly to feel any sort of rootedness. When we began revising it, I knew I needed to strengthen the personal relationships between these women, both in backstory and what is conveyed onstage.
What did you take away from the New York Theater Festival run of Supermarket 86? Did the audience reactions or feedback in New York surprise you in any way, or lead you to refine certain aspects of the show before bringing it to Edinburgh?
The New York Theatre Festival run was the catalyst for where we are now with the show. Not only did we see the edits we needed to make (which we also saw while rehearsing but couldn’t make such drastic changes right then), but we saw that the show had potential. We took note of the humor that worked, the relationships the audience rooted for, and how it made people feel. Ellie and I are strong collaborators because of our honesty and directness – it makes for more consistency and efficiency.
Our main edit was the relationship between Rose, the cashier, and Peyton, her ex-girlfriend. Their relationship, and the fallout, is the through line of the entire show. It has to be teased throughout the show, and then they have it out in a big, emotional fight. Allowing that to build in an engaging way, with the proper amount of reveal, was our key. We spent weeks outlining how they talk, when and why. We took what we know about navigating relationships in our early twenties and combined it with what we already know about these characters.
You wear many hats in this production — you’re the playwright, a co-producer, and you also perform in the show. How do you juggle those roles? Does acting in a play you wrote feel different from performing in someone else’s work? And do you find that being the writer gives you an extra sense of responsibility (or perhaps more freedom) on stage?
Wearing many hats forces you step up beyond being an actor in the show. Although it’s a lot of work, it’s the type of work I enjoy. I directed the very first version of this show and to be blunt – I hated it. Many because I was also wearing many hats then as well, but I just found it to be stressful. Since my brain had been so deep in the world of Supermarket, I struggled to see the bigger picture that a director needs to see. Therefore, when we did the version at the NY Theatre Festival, the stage manager of that show, Ellie Aslanian, a dear friend of mine, approached me after and said, “If you ever do it again, I’d love the chance to direct it.” I basically hired her on sight. She has such a brilliant and versatile mind, and I love the way she sees the world.
Once I relinquished the role of director, I felt like I could really begin to play. Ellie and the cast are very gracious and when we discuss notes after a run, they often consult me to see if I had any thoughts or objections to the directions they wanted to go in. I feel seen and heard without being demanding about the words I wrote. Truthfully, each version of this show has felt so different to me, so I actually look forward to watching these actors interpret my words differently. Of course we have a structure of the show and how it flows, but it’s been magical watching these girls that have lived in my head for so long come to life by these brilliant actors.
As a young playwright and actor, who are some of your creative influences or role models? Were there particular writers, plays, or even films that inspired the style or themes of Supermarket 86? And do you have artistic heroes whose career paths you admire as you launch your own company and projects?
The very first, and perhaps still the biggest, inspiration for this show is TheWolves by Sarah DeLappe. The Wolves is a one setting play about a girl’s soccer team. One of the driving forces of the play is the rhythm in which the girls speak; there’s almost a beat to it, much like there is when close friends find their groove and can’t stop talking. I wanted to capture that sense of rhythm throughout the play as a way to show how sometimes, you begin connecting with people without even realizing it.
A recent inspiration that has come into my life is Cole Escola, the creator, writer and star of the Broadway play Oh, Mary. Their play has taken New York by storm in the most original way. The show started in a theatre downtown, with no star names attached to it, and began selling out instantly. It moved to Broadway and has been extended 5 times and won 2 Tony Awards. I highlight the accolades not as a comparison tracker, but rather an acknowledgment of original work being celebrated. It took Cole almost a decade to write and produce their play, but by continuously working on it and meeting new people, they were able to share it with the larger audience. It’s the “slow and steady wins the race” mentality – and very often, it pays off.
Bringing Supermarket 86 to the Edinburgh Fringe
After its New York runs, why did you decide to bring Supermarket 86 to the Edinburgh Festival Fringe? You’ve mentioned that performing at the world’s largest arts festival is an incredible opportunity to share your story and open doors for your show. What do you hope to achieve with this Fringe run — for the show and for yourself as an artist?
One of the main reasons we wanted to bring our show to the Fringe is because we believe our show has really strong legs. We believe in its power to move people and for people to find themselves in these girls. In order for that message to be received, both positively and critically, we need more and more people to see it. Producing theatre is difficult – and in New York, we found that we had maybe hit a bit of a break. We kept working on the show weekly, and had urges to expand it farther than our corner of New York. As an artist, going to the Fringe and pulling it off is an achievement by itself. Having the stamina, courage and confidence to show up every day, not knowing how many, if any, tickets you have sold, but still being bold in your belief in your project is how you develop as an artist. Knowing your show won’t resonate with everyone, but still trying because you know it will connect with someone. As for the show, we want as many eyes on it as possible because we want as much feedback as possible. I want any and all criticisms of the show; doesn’t mean our team will take every single one, but we can grocery shop the feedback and see what aligns with our visions.
This isn’t your first time at the Fringe — last year you performed in Love’s Concordia Bar. How does it feel to return to Edinburgh, but now with a show that you’ve written and produced yourself? Did your experience last year influence how you’re preparing for this year’s Fringe as a creator and producer?
The reason I have made the crazy choice to return to Edinburgh for a consecutive second year is because it was simply the greatest experience of my life. The Fringe is a love letter to art. I was beyond impressed with the versatility of shows. Any type of art you wanted – stand up, cabarets, musicals, plays, movement, circus – you would find there. As I attended last year, I thought of Supermarket 86. I felt it could have a home there. Specifically, when I saw the show Girlhood at Greenside. It was about women through different time periods – early 20s, marriage and motherhood. I found many parallels between that show and mine, and that’s when I began to feel tinges of Supermarket fitting at the Fringe. It’s terrifying in all the right ways.
I attended last year as a performer for Company Della Luna’s production of Love’s Concordia Bar. While the cast flyered everyday and voluntarily attended Fringe events, I was there as a performer. Now, I wear the hats of writer and producer as well. Observing how last year’s company produced – how much prep, where they put their marketing focus, etc – heavily influenced me for this upcoming year. I have greatly leaned on my peers from that company for guidance and support. It is overwhelming to find ways to compete against almost 4,000 other shows. To have other producers with experience be able to tell me what worked for them, and what didn’t, is invaluable as a first time fringe producer.
The Fringe can be an intense month — performing daily, standing out among hundreds of shows, unpredictable audiences. What are you most excited about as you head into this month-long run? And what do you anticipate will be the biggest challenge in performing Supermarket 86 at the Fringe, whether logistical or personal?
My director and I joke that the biggest challenge that makes us grow grey hairs is finding a consistent way to get people in the seats. And I know that’s a very common thought as shows go up against thousands of others. So as crazy as it is to advertise your show all month, I’m most excited to find out the best strategies our company can use to find success in ticket sales.
Through that, you build connections, which is also what I’m most looking forward to. I met countless lifelong friends at last year’s Fringe. Around the world, I’ve created lasting connections with other artists. That is the beauty of the Fringe. It’s not the expectation that your show will be picked up instantly and all your dreams come true; rather, you meet the right people and create as much as you can.
Company Dream House and Looking Ahead
You and director Ellie Aslanian co-founded your theater company, Dream House, in 2024. The company’s mission is to support diverse, young artists telling stories of identity and purpose — much like what Supermarket 86 does. What inspired you to start Dream House, and how has launching a company influenced the way you produce and promote this show?
We discussed the idea of starting our own theatre company shortly after we concluded our run at the NY Theatre Festival. As an artist, it can be very challenging to “break in” to the industry. The more specific you can get in what you want to do, the easier it will be to find the right avenues. For me, when I shifted my educational studies to more experimental, original theatre, I felt like I had found my corner of theatre; I loved creating original work with my fellow artists. So when we did our run back in 2023, I felt motivated to create a hub where young artists can get the chance to create. Everything takes time to build, but now that we can have a company, we can begin collaborating with other young artists who have stories to share. Since creating this company, both Ellie and I have had to take on the role of producers, something we both had limited experience in. But everyone starts somewhere, and we are thrilled to be learning by doing – making mistakes, collaborating with others, and finding our groove as producers.
Do you have any plans for Supermarket 86 after the Fringe? For instance, could you see it returning to New York or touring elsewhere with the momentum from Edinburgh? And more broadly, are there other projects on the horizon for you or Dream House that we should watch out for?
We have always viewed our journey to Edinburgh as a stepping stone for Supermarket86. We have larger goals for this show, the main one being making it a 90 minute show. Since 90 minute shows are not very common at the Fringe, we are hoping to find where and how we can expand it. And to do that, we need eyes on the story. In our ideal world, we meet and converse with fellow artists and receive a wide array of feedback that we can take back to the drawing board. We will definitely be doing another version of the show back in New York, it’s just a matter of time and collaborations. As for any broader projects – we have our sights set on the success of Supermarket 86!
Finally, what do you hope audiences will take away from seeing Supermarket 86? Beyond a fun and heartfelt hour of theatre, are there particular feelings or thoughts you want people to leave the theatre with?
Much like these girls, I want the audience to leave feeling even just a tiny bit changed than when they first walked in. The girls of Supermarket 86 leave the store the next morning with a sense of hope; not even confirmation that anything will change, but the hope that it could. The belief in themselves to go chase the life they so desperately want to live. And it surprises them! A 5 minute grocery store run turned into an overnight stay where each girl confronted a harsh truth about themselves. Sometimes life forces you to stop and take a look around. But the reassuring part is: you don’t have to do it alone. We all have parts of our lives we wish were different, whether physically or emotionally. If we can inspire the audience in the slightest way to look at their life differently, or feel hope to start again, we will have done our job. It’s not perfect – the hope might leave the next day. But just knowing that it was there in the first place is enough to light the spark again.
You can find out more and purchase a ticket for Supermarket 86 here
A Counter Culture Preview | Words by Patrick Harrington
796 words, 4 minutes read time.
The 2025 Edinburgh Fringe programme reads like a chorus of unfiltered voices—frayed, fearless, and fighting to be heard. Whether exploring myth through futuristic gaze or revisiting icons with raw intimacy, these shows aren’t just entertainment—they’re interventions. Here are just a few we’re planning to see and review. And if you like what you read, click on the title to purchase tickets.
Berlin Open Theatre | 1–25 Aug | 17:30 (1h) Set in Berlin’s fading club scene, this piece feels eerily current—a quiet elegy to joy as resistance. As authorities tighten their grip and safe spaces flicker out, we follow queer organisers pushing back with light, sweat, and sound. Expect immersive storytelling that blurs the line between performance and rave, with a thumping political pulse beneath the hedonism.
Minotaur Theatre Company | 11–16 Aug | 12:05 (50m) Two clowns in pearls and power suits debate banning men—on live breakfast TV. What could go wrong? This whip-smart satire skewers performative politics, gendered violence, and the optics of progress. It’s messy, sharp, and beautifully furious. One to watch for fans of Newsnight crossed with Clown Funeral.
Dan Ireland-Reeves | 1–16 Aug | Venue & time TBC Told with sweat, sass, and sincerity, this solo show reclaims the stories of men working in gay saunas. Expect intimate detail, ghosted clients, and glimpses of real connection in the steam. Dan Ireland-Reeves mixes autobiography and theatrical flair in a world rarely shown on stage.
Night Owl Shows | 1–23 Aug | 13:10 (50m) Dylan’s protest ballads get a new coat in this soulful reimagining. The Night Owl Band’s arrangements stay true to spirit without being stuck in sepia. Thoughtful, stripped-back, and surprisingly moving—expect quieter revelations between the chords.
Night Owl Shows | 1–23 Aug | 18:50 (50m) This tribute is unapologetically loud—electrifying in voice and politics. Reine Beau commands the stage through the voices of Joplin, Benatar, and Stefani. Less nostalgia tour, more firestarter. An ode to feminine power on full volume.
Night Owl Shows | 1–23 Aug | 14:50 (50m) Part biography, part musical love letter. Angus Munro carries Elton’s vocal gymnastics and wit with uncanny ease, but it’s the honesty of the narration that elevates it—a portrait of resilience in sequins. Even the most casual fan will walk away moved.
Night Owl Shows | 1–23 Aug | 16:10 (50m) Beyond the harmonies and Hollywood veneer, this is a story of artists chasing transcendence and breaking apart under the weight. With pitch-perfect vocals and archival richness, it’s a thoughtful retelling for those who lived the music—and those just discovering its wings.
Night Owl Shows | 1–23 Aug | 19:50 (50m) More than a tribute—this is a communion. With Peter Marchant’s Mercury-esque magnetism and musical precision, it captures the operatic heart of Queen. High camp, yes, but laced with raw defiance. Don’t be surprised if the audience becomes the choir.
Hate N Live | 1–25 Aug | 21:00 (1h) Late-night comedy with teeth—and venom. Comedians roast your rage-fuelled suggestions in real time. Think Have I Got News For You meets a group therapy session led by stand-up sadists. Unfiltered, uneven, and frequently hysterical.
Rainee Blake | 1–25 Aug | 17:30 (1h) Rainee Blake doesn’t impersonate Joni—she honours her. With dulcimer and aching falsetto, she channels a voice that changed everything. This show is as much about memory and myth as melody. Come for the songs; stay for the feeling.
SUSU Theatre Group | 18–23 Aug | 10:35 (50m) A silent film reimagined through physical theatre, shadow play, and creeping dread. Visually striking and morally slippery, this version of Caligari feels like a warning from both the past and for the future.
Talking Shadows | 1–25 Aug | Times TBC It’s not just about the World Cup. This jukebox musical wraps itself around a pivotal year—when class, culture, and pop collided in glorious technicolour. Working-class dreams kick off, boots first.
Mayuri Bhandari | 1–25 Aug | Times TBC Part dance-theatre, part political awakening, this blistering piece dismantles colonial wellness trends and reclaims sacred space. It’s riotous, reverent, and deeply intelligent—featuring storytelling that demands yoga be seen as revolution, not retail.
Muddy Lolos | 1–23 Aug | 10:00 (50m) Three celestial beings debate whether to rebuild humanity in this post-anthropocene fable. Told through movement, mask, and multilingual poetry, Echoes of Nuwa is mythic, strange, and stirring. Equal parts cautionary tale and cosmic love letter.
The Edinburgh Fringe is a festival that thrives on the unexpected, and Matt Forde’s “The End of an Era Tour” is no exception. Forde, a seasoned political comedian, has returned to the Fringe with a show that is as much about resilience as it is about satire.
Forde’s journey to the stage this year is nothing short of remarkable. After a diagnosis of cancer at the base of his spine and major surgery, his presence at the Pleasance Courtyard is a testament to his determination. The show begins with Forde walking on stage, supported by a walking stick, and humorously explaining his situation. It’s a powerful moment that sets the tone for the evening – one of humor intertwined with human vulnerability.
The show itself is a rollercoaster ride through the current political landscape. Forde’s ability as a former Labour advisor shines through as he lambasts Rishi Sunak and the outgoing Tories, while also sparing some jibes for the SNP to acknowledge his Scottish audience. His impersonations are a highlight, capturing not just the voices but the mannerisms of political figures with impressive accuracy. His take on the new Prime Minister is particularly noteworthy, as is his portrayal of Trump, which oscillates between hilarity and horror.
What stands out in Forde’s performance is the lack of malice. Even when poking fun at political figures like Lee Anderson or Nigel Farage, there’s a sense that it’s all in good jest. This is comedy that appeals to a broad audience, akin to a Guardian op-ed with a generous helping of humor.
Despite the political barbs, there’s an underlying current of optimism in Forde’s show. His gratitude for the NHS, which he credits with his ability to do, serves as a reminder that not everything is bleak. In a time of political turmoil, Forde’s show offers a space for laughter and reflection.
For those who appreciate political satire delivered with a personal touch, Matt Forde’s “The End of an Era Tour” is a must-see at this year’s Fringe. It’s a show that celebrates the power of comedy to discuss the serious, the power of the human spirit to overcome adversity, and the enduring importance of the NHS. Forde may joke about the end of an era, but if this performance is anything to go by, his era as a top political comedian is far from over.
Edinburgh Fringe is a festival that never fails to bring a kaleidoscope of talent to the forefront, and Ed Patrick’s show “Catch Your Breath” is no exception. With his unique blend of medical knowledge and comedic flair, Patrick has crafted a show that is both enlightening and entertaining.
As an NHS anaesthetist turned comedian, Patrick brings a perspective to the stage that is as rare as it is riveting. His show delves into the life of a junior doctor, the intricacies of the NHS, and the often-overlooked pitfalls of modern medicine. But what sets Patrick apart is his ability to inject humour into these serious topics, ensuring that the laughter is as steady as the pulse of his narrative.
The show has been described as “brilliantly funny” by Matt Lucas and has received accolades from various critics, noting that Patrick had the audience in “fits of laughter” . His masterful storytelling and playfully provocative writing have earned him a spot among the best comedy shows at this year’s Fringe, as listed by The Scotsman .
What’s truly remarkable about “Catch Your Breath” is its accessibility. You don’t need a medical degree to appreciate the humour or understand the anecdotes. Patrick has a gift for making the complex relatable, and his show is packed with funny anecdotes that resonate with everyone, whether you’re a healthcare professional or someone who’s simply navigated the maze of a hospital visit.
Ed Patrick’s “Catch Your Breath” is a must-see at this year’s Edinburgh Fringe. It’s a show that will have you laughing, thinking, and perhaps even appreciating the medical professionals in your life a little more. For those looking for a dose of humour with substance, Patrick’s performance is the perfect remedy.
