The Nest

I wanted to write this piece originally about two weeks ago. Or at least start writing it a couple of weeks ago. When the Fringe was still fresh in my mind. Obviously, as you can imagine, Life (with a capital ‘L’) happened, and here I am. But I’ll be damned if I’m not writing this!

In order for this to work, there are three subjects I need to broach: the first being the shows I performed; the second being the shows I saw; and the third being there because of the rule of threes.

(When writing, everything has to be in threes. Don’t ask why. It just is.)

Obviously, this last subject will be raised when I have a clearer idea of what exactly it is. In the meantime…

THE PERFORMANCES

I did three shows this Fringe. One each week. The first, I had performed in 2021: Psychoanalyzing the Audience. The second, I had performed in 2022: On the Harmfulness of Tobacco (A Reimagining). The third was a 2023 exclusive: Gabriel Bird Sings Some Songs, Tells Some Stories, and Occasionally Acts Silly.

Without going into too much detail about them, there was all the ups and downs of performing this year. I was based at CC Blooms, a popular gay bar/club near – but also just outside – the center of town. Many people passed in front of it, but people were always on their way somewhere, usually too busy to stop and take a chance on a show they’d never heard of. So it was both a blessing and a curse. The audiences were more often than not small. I don’t think I ever packed in more than half the house on any given night throughout the month.

Luckily, when quantity doesn’t work, quality always does. Though I had small audiences, I was lucky enough to have good ones. I don’t mean every evening. I had my fair share of audiences that didn’t listen, didn’t care, didn’t show up. 

But I also had a Dutch graduating dramaturge who told me she loved my version of Chekhov’s “Tobacco.” Some random person said it’s a crime that I don’t have more audience. A group of (what I believe were to be) teenagers heckling and laughing their way through the show to finally shake my hand – each and every one of them – saying what a blast they had. A certified schizophrenic coming up after my show, shaking my hand, buying me a drink, having a whole discussion with me about Jung and Hume, and saying that I showed on stage how he feels? A show that I wrote and put on stage on my own? It is hard to put into words how one feels after events like these. And, sure, it doesn’t pay rent. But it reinforces one’s drive, one’s purpose, one’s whatever you want to call it. Will to live. And, good Lord, will it keep me going.

I’ll try to keep the more technical dissection of the shows to a succinct one sentence for each.

Psychoanalyzing the Audience

Was fun to rediscover this text and (especially) the character. I am afraid that he’s become too cartoony, that I’ve become perhaps too comfortable with the material. However, the character is meant to be an absurd, over-the-top clownish character, so, though a fault, I think it still works. I enjoyed adding to his backstory (he has now studied at the “Medical and Psychological Research Academy of the Democratic People’s Republic of North Korea” – or so he claims) and would love to see how outrageous these tidbits can become in the future.

On the Harmfulness of Tobacco

This, in my opinion, was my breakout piece this year. Giving it a full week’s run, the piece was able to have its fat cut out, breathe, spread its wings, and fly. The manic side of the character was amped, and it works so much better. It’s an important thing to never forget about the character (though it can easily be with the lines I’ve given him) – he’s not angry or hateful; he’s a nervous wreck that has no idea how to vent his frustration, and so takes it out against everyone, everything. The one thing about this show is it needs its audience. It can be hit or miss depending on whether or not the audience “gets it,” has a taste for these kind of shenanigans. The audience has to be patient, open-minded, curious, on its toes… When this criteria is met, they have a great time. When the audience is looking for instant gratification, as it often does at the Fringe, the show can fall flat.

Obviously, I am not saying that the audience is at fault if the show doesn’t work. It is a perfectly natural, reasonable thing for audiences to want to simply sit back, turn their brains off, and have a good time. But when a show relies on playing with expectations – subverting them to be exact – and the audience entrenches itself in what it wants, then a difficult balance has to be kept, and which I am woefully unable to get right every time. 

Bottom line: I look forward to playing around with this script more and, hopefully, bringing it to a larger audience.

(So much for the “one sentence per show” idea. I can’t even keep it to one paragraph per show!)

Gabriel Bird Sings Some Songs, Tells Some Stories, and Occasionally Acts Silly

That title seemed like a much better idea at the time of conception than in practice… The idea was “I’ll just be myself in this show, so I can put my own name front and center.” (Egocentric, I know.) Big mistake. Yes, I was myself, but who the hell am I? Nobody. When people came (IF they came), it wasn’t to see me, it was to hear Brassens, De Andre, Gainsbourg. They’re the ones who should have been front and center. What I said about “Tobacco” struggling to find its audience? This was the same, times a thousand! My main demographic for this show turned out to be “friends and family,” which, while obviously appreciated (thank you all!) was a bit more exclusive than I would have liked. My goal whenever performing – especially at the Fringe – is to be able to attract, entertain, and brighten a complete stranger’s day. (I believe that is every performer’s goal, more or less.) When the audience is composed only of friends and family, obviously I want to entertain them and it makes me happy when I do, but part of me does feel I have failed as a performer, specifically in the “attracting strangers” department. 

Anyway, it was in this mindframe of doubt and anxiety (nobody came to the last “Tobacco” or the first “Gabriel Sings Songs” show, and about seven people – all friends – showed up in total to the second and third shows) that I started thinking: maybe this show was a mistake. Maybe cabaret isn’t for me. Maybe I cut my losses, cancel the shows, and simply try to enjoy what is left of the Fringe. An abandoned project. A failed mutation. 

Luckily, my partner didn’t allow me to do this. She kept assuring me that the show is good and told me to stop apologizing on stage for it. I took that advice to heart and, from one day to the next, not only did I enjoy performing the show more, it also got better, and audiences started showing up! 

I’m not going to go into too much more detail about it now. Suffice to say, it of course still needs work, but I now believe there is a show in there – a good one even – that I can bring out, that there is an audience for it, and that I can do it all while enjoying myself too! I even might be performing this show again in November down by the borders! To go from being ready to scrap the whole project to where it is now, within a week, is definitely a win in my book.

The Other Shows

There are a few projects that can’t be ignored – if I’m talking about my performances – but, because this is already getting long enough, and because I want to publish this sometime before Christmas, I will sadly have to be unfairly short when talking about the people and experiences. 

On the CC Blooms group Whatsapp one day, a young Glaswegian asked if anyone could read in for his actress that had to drop out of his production. I happened to be the first to reply, and so he “hired” me and we met a few hours before the first show! His name was Mark Young, and his show was called “I’ll Love You With My Last Breath.” A funny, sweet, tragic piece about a girl (changed to a guy in our version) stuck in a permanent quarantine because of a rare illness that cannot be cured or even understood, and the guy who breaks through that quarantine for Love’s sake – and pays the ultimate price for it. It was an absolute joy to read for and with Mark throughout the month, and I’ll include his social media info at the bottom of this article.

Also asking for help on the Whatsapp group, Rich Watkins asked for a sound guy for the show “Naughty Ever After,” a Toy Story-inspired burlesque show – the first burlesque show I’ve ever seen no less! I had the pleasure of singing, dancing, and hooting along with them all month.Despite watching it almost every night for a month, it never failed to amuse me and get me jumping along with the music! 

Finally, the last show I performed, technically after the Fringe was already over, was written by Angelique Celine, a fellow MGA graduate – albeit in the Musical Theatre department. A funny “anti-romcom” about a girl (slowly) realising she doesn’t need a man – especially not the absolute dickhead that she’s going out with at the moment – as long as she can learn to love herself. On top of performing in a lovely French cafe (which is always a plus), I was able to work with just-as-lovely (and talented!) people: Angelique, Julia Clare, John P. Arnold, and Tom Duncan. A huge thanks to all of them!

Okay, now we can move on to the meat and potatoes…

THE SHOWS

I was very happy that I could watch as many shows as I did this year. Having my own three shows to do, an other three shows to work on, and flyering to do as well, I thought my Fringe was going to be more spent working than actually watching shows. As luck would have it, I saw about 10 performances, ranging from abstract dance-theatre to your typical standup, and I’m happy to give you a list of all the shows, from the least impactful (to me) to my absolute favourite.

A quick side-note: I suffered heartbreak this Fringe, and I need to put it down in writing. I had got tickets to see the Berliner Ensemble’s production of The Threepenny Opera. In June. It technically wasn’t a Fringe show but an International Festival one. Nonetheless, this was the only show I really wanted to see this August. I’d waited two months and a half for this show. I’d gotten my partner a ticket to see it on Friday. I had a ticket to see it on Sunday. She saw it on the Friday. She told me it was great, that she couldn’t wait for me to see it so we could talk about it. I couldn’t wait to see it, because I wanted to see it. I couldn’t (and still can’t) remember the last show I wanted to see as badly as this one. The showing on Friday was at 7.30 PM. The showing on Sunday was at 5. I did not find this out until it was too late. When I did find out, I threw my phone on the ground, emptied my pockets (for some unknown reason), and had a panic attack. A lot of people were surprised and concerned. I apologised profusely and, after picking up my belongings, practically ran away. An overreaction to be sure, but I needed to put it down in writing, like I said. The next few weeks, I kept reading reviews on Instagram, on the Guardian, I kept getting notifications on my phone of reviews about the great, wonderful, had-to-be-there-to-believe-it Berliner Ensemble’s performance of The Threepenny Opera.

Anyway, onto the shows.

Actually, one more side-note. A disclaimer rather. I’m ordering these from my least to my most favourite, simply because I can’t remember the chronological order I saw them in. And before I get into it, I want to say: every one of these shows, even the lowest in my ranking, clearly have had a lot of hard work and love put into them and thus have merit, and that is always to be commended. The lower half of these shows simply didn’t scratch a particular itch I had at the time, and so their ranking here shouldn’t be taken as my saying “they are objectively bad” or anything like that. I simply didn’t quite “vibe” with them.

Okay, onto the shows! (For real this time.)

Shit-Faced Shakespeare

Okay, let’s rip this band-aid (or plaster) off. I was not crazy about this year’s Shit-Faced Shakespeare. Believe me, it hurts me to put it at the bottom of my list. I’d first seen it last year, when they did Macbeth, and I loved it. I thought the idea was genius, daring, hilarious, all the adjectives! There were a few things that kind of bothered me, but so what? It’s a grand old time. When they did Romeo & Juliet this year though, they seemed to have leaned into what bugged me. The actor who was drunk wasn’t playing Shakespeare. He was winking to the audience about how he was drunk on stage while other actors were playing Shakespeare. He was playing Romeo; I looked so forward to the balcony scene. The “what light through yonder breaks” monologue. A staple. Instead, he just completely skipped over it. I don’t know, maybe I’m just being a killjoy. To me, the fun is watching the supporting actors make up for the drunk person’s mistakes, not the mistakes themselves. When all the drunk actor does is simply say to the audience: “Look at how drunk I am! Isn’t this crazy?” you’re not watching Shit-Faced Shakespeare, you’re watching a guy who’s shit-faced with a Shakespeare monologue thrown in there somewhere, and I just know the show can be so much more.

Bad Teacher

A one-woman show, performed by Erin Holloway of The Queens of Cups Theatre company, about a day in the life of a teacher, seeing the person behind the job. Well-performed, amusing, I did enjoy it, but there is quite a bit of UK politics you’re expected to know. MPs, funding cuts, annoyances with bureaucracy, etc. It’d be one thing if it was explained to you slowly and clearly, but it’s rather thrown at you, and you’re expected to keep up. In my case, a lot went unfortunately over my head. And the ending wasn’t very earned in my opinion, though that may be a side-effect of my not “getting it.”

Adults

Written by Kieran Hurley, “Adults” is a dark comedy about a john (Conleth Hill) who visits a makeshift brothel. The hitch? The madam (Dani Heron) is an old student of his, and hijinks ensue. Despite a promising premise, I felt like it didn’t make the most of it. There was much too much sitting around talking. I don’t think we needed as much exposition as we got. There’s a great scene where, having changed his mind, the john goes to leave, and so the male-prostitute (Anders Hayward) has to find out what makes him ‘tick’ and seduce him into staying. It’s hilarious, cringy, and thought-provoking. What are our deep, dark desires? What do they say about us? Can they simply be turned off and on at will? The problem is, this scene comes after about 45 minutes of sitting around, lounging, talking about (more) UK politics, characters that we never meet and/or are given too much backstory, even book reviews. It doesn’t feel earned. 

Another thing that put me off, the performances seemed quite low-energy. Example: after waiting for the male-prostitute for what seems ever (it’s his day off), he finally shows up. Now this is a great set-up. There’s some tension here because (1) he’s extremely late, no one knows why, and the madam can’t afford to lose clientele; (2) the john is looking for a ‘boy,’ not completely underage but perhaps a little ‘jail-baitey,’ which makes you squirm in your seat a bit with unease. So when the prostitute finally does show up, and we see, on top of being a full grown mature man, that he’s pushing a stroller with a screaming baby inside, and all hell breaks loose – the john is yelling at the madam, the madam is yelling at the sex-worker, the sex worker is yelling at the two of them because they’re upsetting the baby – the sheer absurdity and pandemonium that ensues makes us laugh and relax (at least momentarily). The problem was there was no pandemonium. They were all talking at reasonable levels, standing in their respective corner of the rooms, so much so that I found myself confused when the sex-worker kept repeating “shut up, shut up.” It made what should’ve been (in my eyes) a slam-dunk of a scene fall fairly flat. And I think that sensation pervades through the rest of the show. Maybe I saw it on an off-night. 

Bottom line, it’s the kind of show I enjoy in retrospect, chatting about it at the pub, rather than actually watching.

Jazzmin

A jazz band I saw at the Jazz Bar. They were great! But not a Fringe show technically, so I put them in the second half of the list.

Emmanuel Sonubi: Curriculum Vitae

A ex-bouncer-turned-stand-up-comedian, Emmanuel Sonubi is a fun night out. Topics range from his time as a bouncer to his kids, to his many (many!) awards, and, of course, how incredibly humble he is.

Nerdlesque

The second burlesque show I ever saw in my life! A WhatNot Theatrics production, Nerdlesque merges everyone’s favourite TV shows and films with everyone’s favourite live form of entertainment: strip-tease! From the time-traversable galaxies of Dr. Who to the fantastical faraway lands of Middle-Earth, there was something for everyone in this show!

Sanctified Trash: The Life and Times of Mona Mae

Performed by the eponymous Mona Mae, “Sanctified Trash” finds the drag queen in her dressing room, about to perform on stage for the first time in a long time, and she is nervous! To cool her nerves, she gives us stories of when she started out performing and coming out. Funny, tragic, sometimes anger-inducing, but always with a lot of love, “Sanctified Trash” is a look at how far we’ve come with LGBTQIA+ rights, and how far we still need to go.

Tennessee Rose

First show we saw this Fringe. Written by Clare Cockburn, this was a fascinating dive into the life of Rose Williams – Tennessee Williams’ sister – brought to life by Anne Kidd, along with the help of Aron Dochard and Helen Katamba. Touching, funny, tragic, the play jumps around from modern day – when a rest-home nurse tries to get through to Rose after her lobotomy – and flashbacks of her youth – growing up with a strict mother, as an outsider, looking for some tenderness. Looking at the life and times of Tennessee Williams’ muse is a fascinating peek behind the curtain of the legendary playwright’s work.

The Disney Delusion

Though the title is quite misleading, I found myself quite surprisingly delighted with The Disney Delusion, written and performed by Leif Oleson-Cormack. We went mainly because of the title (my partner is a Disney freak). Being an award-winning comedian, I was expecting some straightforward stand-up about Disney princesses or something. Instead, I got a story about a scheme to entrap a friend of his into a relationship by going to Disney Land (or World, I forget) that goes horribly haywire. I’ll be honest, I didn’t find the comedy quite up my alley – I frankly didn’t laugh all that much – but Leif Oleson-Cormack has such a charm and easy delivery, and tells a story in such a way that I was hanging on to every word. I wanted to know what happened next. I was invested in the characters, the situation, the world he’d builded. It was a true story, but it really came off as a film, and the message he ended on was a powerful one. Basically, that everyone is a person, and just when you think you know someone or something, chances are you don’t. There’s obviously more to it than that, but it’s my takeaway. Simple, but powerful.

How To Be A Man

Written and performed by George Aivaliotis, “How To Be A Man” is a pure Fringe show. Hesitating on whether or not to take a plane to go into the unknown, George works his way through multiple facets of masculinity and tries to make sense of it all. Or rather it is we, the audience, who tries, as he is soon lost in a variety of different worlds. I say it’s a pure Fringe show because I never knew where he was going next, he always keeps you on your toes. My personal highlight of this show: when, as a caveman, he takes a bump of cocaine and enters a sort-of stockbroker/business guru monologue about making millions and “reaching the top.” Other interesting moment: he’d asked me what my favourite childhood book was. (There’s a lot of audience participation in the show.) I couldn’t think of any children’s book, let alone my favourite, so I blurted out, at random, Harry Potter. I heard an audible, shocked gasp and scoff from behind me. Noticing this, George very kindly came to my defence, saying “isn’t it a shame how J.K. Rowling ruined those stories for us?” or something to that effect. “That Harry Potter has to come with an asterisk?” I just found it interesting.

Dillis

Similar to How To Be A Man, but on crack. A show by Brianna Ahlmark, it’s hard to put into words what exactly happened when we walked into the space. A red balloon appeared, followed nervously by a woman dressed in a Clockwork Orange clown outfit, chuckling uncontrollably, drinking piss, and playing a cheap, plastic, electric piano. And that was just the first five-ten minutes. By the end, she was running out into the bar (non-playing zone), naked, red paint smeared on her face, a fake moustache stuck to her lip, telling people to shut up. And, God, was it funny. You were with her every step of the way. For the life of me, I can’t explain – or even describe – what it was I saw, except with this: It was Fringe.

Aidan Greene: I Can’t Believe It’s Not Stutter!

I usually don’t go for stand-up comics. It’s just not my cup of tea. When I find a comic I like, I will love them to the ends of earth and back, but statistically speaking, it’s fairly rare. In fact, Aidan Greene is probably not one of them. But he comes really, really, REALLY close. A celiac Irish comedian with a stutter, Aidan Greene is probably the funniest guy I saw this Fringe. He talks about the challenges he’s faced in life in a thoughtful, hilarious way and incorporates his stutter in a beautiful way that never takes away from the comedy. Definitely worth checking out.

Jane/Norma

Did you know that Norma McCorvery – the “Jane Roe” in “Roe v. Wade,” arguably the most important figure in the pro-choice movement in America – became a pro-lifer later on in her years? I did not, and I find that extraordinary. That is just one of the many tidbits that we learn in this verbatim-theatre character study sorted (to not say written) and directed by Kiera Bell and brought to life by Charlotte Bella Page and Peter Morrison. What I especially loved about this piece is how, though it revolves around Norma, it is told from the perspective of people who have met or known her, rather than her herself. This creates a nice tension inside the mind of the audience: how much of what we’re hearing is trustworthy? Are these narrators reliable? Especially when it comes to a figure like McCorvery? Are they telling the truth or simply pushing an agenda? Who isn’t pushing an agenda? Told effectively with lots of care and clear passion, and sadly topical with the events of last year, Jane/Norma was not only an enjoyable piece but an important one as well. Will be keeping a close eye on Viewpoint Theatre in the future!

20 People A Minute

In “20 People A Minute” – an Arthur & Redpath and New Celts production -we follow four people – refugees – who are looking for a safe haven somewhere, anywhere. They are no longer sure where they are from; they have no idea where they are headed; they just know they must keep moving to live. The audience is kept right alongside them, fumbling in the dark, evading traps, capture, death. It borrows from absurdist drama (à la Godot) to speak of the human condition; from magical realism poetry for the imagery; and from real life politics for the stakes that the character find themselves in – as will we perhaps in a not-too-distant-future. Written by Samantha Robinson, directed by Tom Mullins, and brought to life by Isabella Velarde, Benjamin Cheetham, Michael Reddington and Melissa Ainsworth – each and every one of the experts of their crafts – “20 People A Minute” is a theatrical tour-de-force.

The Maids

The Moo Soo Theatre company, based in Korea, brought an adaptation of Jean Genet’s “The Maids” to Edinburgh. Eun ji Lim and Eseul Kim play the maids, who happen to be sisters as well. They have cut out most of the text and replaced it with choreographed movement, not to say dance. Not only does this change not hinder Genet’s story, I believe it elevates it. Two working class sisters, working as maids for a rich lady – only known as Madame – spend their alone time in the house by roleplaying as the owner, wearing her jewellery and clothes, and telling “her” what they are dying to say. Sometimes they struggle to figure who should play what role. Sometimes the roleplay goes too far.

The original play by Genet is a play of ideas, philosophical, convoluted. A classic, to be sure, but for a niche audience. A niche theatrical audience, which is saying something. The form that the Moo Soo company gives this play, if it doesn’t “popularize” it, at least takes off a layer of intellectualism that, as we find out, is simply not needed. The saying “a picture is worth a thousand words” is given life here. How much more effective is a simple look, a simple gesture (when done right) than pages and pages of monologues. Without words, only movement, we are taken through an exploration of the inner lives of these sisters: their love for each other, but also their hatred for their social standing, and their jealousy of each other, and resentment, and resentment for the Madame, but also this desire to be her, but, by doing so, furthering their hatred of themselves, and this vicious cycle that they can’t break out of, despite knowing it’s toxic, but enjoying its toxicity, and good lord it just goes on! All of this with just looks and movements and an occasional guttural shout or shy whisper! Admittedly, one needs the talent to charge a look, a gesture with such meaning. Fortunately, the mesmerising performances of Eun ji Lim and Eseul Kim, their expressivity, their grace, attention, their control of space, of timing hooks us from the very beginning – with its slow enigmatic opening – straight through – via an electrifying middle of playful pandemonium – to the tragic, inevitable end. And one more thing! The staging! They create completely different varying worlds with a chair, a sheet, two buckets, and two suitcases. Yet we go from drab kitchens, dingy rooms, to beautiful mansions, fairy dreamlands, the bottom of the ocean, every play the maids’ fever dream takes us!

I could go on, so I’ll leave it at this. The sight of seeing a tug of war with a wet sheet, on a wet soapy (slippery) floor, go from innocent fun to a proper battle to see who can hold on the longest until the bitter end says more, in my opinion, about Genet’s piece than even Genet could ever say!

André & Dorine

Los Angeles Stage & Cinema gave this show one of the best reviews I’ve ever read: “Unless you’re having a baby Saturday night, see this show; if you are, see it Sunday.” Not only a witty, amusing review, an accurate one as well.

I am not a good enough writer to put into words why this show is, in my opinion, the best show I’ve seen at the Fringe, whether this year’s or the previous two. Definitely best in the top 5 shows I’ve seen of all time. I know “favourite” and “best” are not interchangeable terms, but I think when it comes to this show they are. But I could shower this show with praise all day, and it would still be an understatement; let me give some concrete information about it.

Brought to us by Kulunka Teatro, performed by José Dault, Garbiñe Insausti and Edu Cárcamo, directed by Iñaki Rikarte, written by all of these and Rolando San Martín, “André & Dorine” is a non-verbal piece of masked Theatre about an old couple’s struggle with dementia. Interspersed with scenes of their daily lives – visits with the doctor, visits from their son, playing the cello, writing a novel – we also get glimpses of their past in flashback form – seeing young André and Dorine’s love story play out from the moment they first met to when they moved into the familiar routine that we see them in when we are first introduced to them. The show is a tragedy – seeing a loved one change beyond our recognition is akin to the worst of nightmares – but it is also a comedy, a romance. The characters are clowns. They’re human. They always care for each other – except when they don’t, because of their own pettiness and vanity, as humans are wont to do. It puts these little desires of ours, our whole lives even, in perspective. A quintessential tragicomedy. Despite tragedy, pettiness, vanity, weakness, illness, pain, suffering, death, there’s is one thing that always endures: Love. Silly, stupid, lovable Love.

Where The Maids had a minimal use of language, André & Dorine has done without it completely. It speaks in a universal language. I don’t know what it says about me that the two shows that have made the biggest impact on me this Fringe have put language in the backseat. Or what it says about Theatre that two of the best shows at this year’s Fringe eliminate language for a greater purpose. I just find it interesting.

I don’t like to think myself a callous person. I am rather sensitive. I like to think so. As an actor, sensitivity is a good quality, and I try to harness it. However, I am also someone who will make jokes while watching “Titanic.” Specifically, the old couple in bed scene. (I know, I know, I am the devil.) Okay, so maybe I am exaggerating a bit; I’m not cackling during “Sophie’s Choice” or anything. The point I’m (clumsily) trying to make is I am either very good at hiding my emotions, or maybe I don’t have that many. (I prefer to think the latter, but I’ll let you make up your own mind.) The reason I’m telling you this is because I need you to understand that, when I say that I was sobbing uncontrollably during this show- and I mean uncontrollably – I NEED you to understand: I do not say that lightly. I had to stop myself from vocally sobbing. My eyes were running rivers, and my nose was too. I was disgusting. The gentleman next to me gave me a pack of tissues. I took two out ,tried to give the pack back to him, he said “keep them.” Even the friend I was with, who’s German, said she almost started crying. Almost started crying. And she’s German. German.

Like I said, I am not a good enough writer to put into words why this show was my favourite this year, or why I think it is the best. I hope, through practice, I will not have to face this problem again when I see another show like it. (If? No. I’m more optimistic than that.) I like to think the best compliment you can give to a Theatre show is saying “I can’t explain it; you just have to see it.” An experience that has to be felt. And that’s all I can say about this one. It isn’t everyday you see a show that changes your life, whether in a big or small way; I’m pretty sure this was one of them, and though I can’t explain why, I will keep striving for it.

The Third Part

Okay, so we reached the third part, and I still have no idea what to put here. But it’s getting close to midnight, I’m tired, and I can’t go on rambling about shows, so I think I’ll just wrap this up. Thank you to all who made this Fringe worth it; my parents, brother, cousins, aunts, uncle, sister-in-law, little cousins, cousins-in law, and my girlfriend for their seemingly unending love and patience; Anna & Andrew for their invaluable help and support; Lea for inviting me to Andre & Dorine (as well as Adults); Benedict, Milly, Lisa, Tori, and Blathnaid for their constructive criticism and helpful suggestions; Marcus and the whole staff of CC Blooms for their hard work; the Naughty Ever After team for the beer and tablet; Mark for the job opportunity; Angelique, Julia, John, and Tom for just being themselves; Monta for being Canadian; Miguel and Mahely for being friends; Luke Meredith and Peter Buckly Hill and the rest of the PBH crew for running the whole shebang; I’m very probably forgetting someone (at least one, maybe more) huge apologies to you, whoever you are. If you feel insulted I’ve left you out, feel free to either write to me and I can add you to the list later on OR challenge me to a duel to the death and we can say pistols at dawn OR whatever, it’s entirely up to you, I’m fine with anything.

Ok. I thinks that’s it. That’s really it. I’m done. I’m… I’m free… FREE! HAHAHAHAH! Sweet freedom! It tastes like… like… fine wine. Like fresh spring flowers! HAHAHAHAHA! I AM FREE!!!!

At least…

…until next year..