IN CONVERSATION WITH: Ellis Green and William Homer

In a far-off kingdom, King Diadon spends each night watching his life story performed by a company of players. But on performance number 18,338, he’s finally had enough – and gives them three days to come up with something new… or face the chop. Unfortunately, teamwork isn’t their strong suit. As panic sets in and chaos erupts, newcomer Rick – confused, unqualified and somehow their last shot at survival – begins to suspect that hidden truths may be lurking behind the curtain. A dark comedy about the masks we wear, and the stories we tell. We sat down with writer, Ellis Green and director, William Homer.


What drew you to creating this unique mix of historical farce and existential theatre? 

Ellis: We started with commedia dell’arte as our foundation – this being an old form of Italian comedy. However, the influence of this form is still apparent all across modern theatre, film, and TV. For this project, we found something really interesting in using this as a means to explore the inner and outer states of our character. It’s usually performed with masks, and our play is very much about the metaphorical masks we put on – beneath which dwells the existential. That contrast – between the roles we perform and the truths we suppress – interested us. Nothing is quite what it seems on the surface.

Will: Yeah, and what really excited me was how that contrast – between the mask and what’s underneath – lets us play in both extremes. You get all the silliness, the chaos, the big gestures… but then suddenly there’s this crack in the surface and something real slips through. It’s a fun, strange tension to sit in. And it felt like the perfect way to explore how people perform in everyday life. Whether it’s to fit in, to survive, or just to keep things tidy. 

In what ways does the play’s theme of creativity under pressure resonate with today’s artistic challenges? 

Ellis: The play has been through three iterations over the last five years. It came about at the height of Covid, while still in drama school, under our own restrictions. That tension – needing to create while feeling restricted or confined – runs through the piece, in my opinion. It kind of mirrors what so many artists often feel – so it may resonate in this way too. 

Will: I think me for it resonates with many of the artistic challenges we face today. I think for one, often artists are expected to conform to existing standards or trends, especially in an industry that can sometimes favour marketability over originality. And there’s a real tension between the desire to create freely and the limitations imposed on us by – financial constraints, lack of space, or institutions deeming certain ideas too “abstract” “niche.” Or the horrid word “Risky”. 

And I also think what resonates is the scenario these players are in. The fact that if their story doesn’t work – they die. It’s dramatic, sure, but also kind of spot on. There’s this pressure to deliver something brilliant, something that lands, which feels very real right now. And I think as artists we have this unspoken fear that if our work isn’t a five-star hit, we’ve failed. Like, get a three-star review and suddenly you’re yesterday’s news! There’s this sense that if you’re not the next big thing immediately, you might not get another chance. The stakes might not be life or death like in the play, but honestly… sometimes it feels close. 

The king’s ultimatum is both hilarious and terrifying- how does this tension drive the story? 

Ellis: King Diadon’s demand for a new story places every character in a kind of psychological pressure cooker. What begins as a farce might reveal itself to be something far more complex and even dark. Diadon’s ultimatum becomes our way into each character’s deeper instincts, hopes, and fears. Revealing oneself under pressure: who surrenders, who resists, who clings to the old, and who reaches for change. It’s comedy, but on the very edge of tragedy. The stakes are absurd, but for the characters, they’re also very, very real.

Will: It’s also what makes the story gripping for an audience – we’re laughing, but there’s a pit in our stomachs because we know whats at stake. That blend of comedy and dread keeps you off balance. And I think it reflects something very real: how ridiculous and terrifying power can be at the same time. Diadon’s demand might seem absurd, but it echoes the kind of pressure many of us face in different forms – to perform, to produce, to prove ourselves. So, I’d say that tension doesn’t just drive the story forward; it deepens every moment. 

How do you bring to life such a large and eccentric cast of characters while keeping the tone light and engaging? 

Ellis: It all comes back to the archetypes. Commedia characters are quite bold and often instantly recognisable, which gives us a good starting point. Each cast member brings something surprising to their role, especially as we explore the contrast between the mask and the inner workings. 

Will: And because the characters are so heightened, there’s a lot of room to play. The fun comes from leaning into the big, eccentric energy, but then letting those unexpected human moments sneak through. We’ve tried to keep it light on its feet, like, yes, there’s chaos, but it’s joyful chaos. And I think the audience connects more when they see that behind all the noise and colour, these characters are just trying (and often failing) to get it right. That tension between the ridiculous and the relatable is what keeps it engaging. 

What do you hope audiences take away from this wild, comedic journey through tradition and reinvention? 

Ellis: The hope is for audiences to leave with a sense of fun, but also reflection. On one hand, it’s comedy – farcical at times – but what makes you laugh might, on closer inspection, may make you cry. Ultimately, we want people to experience that strange but captivating space. I think it’s a show that offers a huge amount to reflect upon. One thing that’s really stayed with me is the power of storytelling itself – how it can be so wonderful, but also something darker, something that may even be misused. Will: And for me, I hope there’s also something freeing in watching these characters wrestle with tradition and try to reshape it – often messily, sometimes hilariously. It’s a reminder that reinvention is rarely neat, but it’s necessary. If people leave the theatre a little more open to questioning the stories they’ve inherited, or the ones they’re telling themselves, then I think we’ve done our job. And if they’re laughing while doing it? Even better.

LONDON PREVIEWS: 28th-29th July at Drayton Arms. Tickets available here.

EDINBURGH RUN: 16th-25th August at Patter House, Gilded Balloon. Tickets available here.

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Amelie Peters

Sink or SING! is an interactive musical comedy cabaret from classically trained vocalist and cabaret artist Amelie Peters. Laugh, vibe, and maybe even sing your heart out as Amelie spills vocal secrets and relatable life lessons in a show that makes everyone the star.


What inspired you to turn a cabaret into a full-blown interactive singing party—did it start in the shower or the studio?

    wish this show started in the shower or studio – it would’ve made a cute story! But honestly, it came from something a lot messier and more personal.

    I was frustrated by how inaccessible the arts can be. Why does quality vocal coaching with real industry knowledge seem like a luxury only the wealthy can afford? Little me would never have booked a one-on-one lesson with adult me – not because I didn’t want to, but because I was proudly poor, intimidated, and low-key resentful of how gatekept the whole industry felt.

    At the time, I’d hit a bit of a wall with my previous cabaret show Retail Reality. I felt burnt out and unrewarded on stage. I totally victimised myself for about two years – hello, pity party.

    Eventually, I stepped back and asked myself: what parts of my career actually make me feel happy? And the answer was clear – vocal coaching and creating shows. That’s when I had the lightbulb moment: what if I combined all of those things into something new? Something that teaches people how to fall in love with singing… even if they’ve never done it before?

    As I moved through my twenties, I noticed something heartbreaking too, so many of the girls I used to sing with in choir as a kid had completely stopped singing. Life got busy, expensive, overwhelming. Between the cost of living and the pressures of adulthood, joy started taking a backseat. That’s when it hit me! I wanted to create a space that brought that joy back. A non-intimidating, 60-minute throwback to the magic of choir (just with more glitter, cheek, and wine if you fancy it!)

    The first two songs I wrote for Sink or SING! Were Guilty Pleasures and Holes in My Undies. They weren’t even meant to be part of a show. I was freezing in a crappy rental during winter, heartbroken, sick, had just cancelled all my shows and tours thanks to COVID, and I just thought: screw it, I’m going to write something that makes me laugh. And from there? The rest flowed like magic.

    You call it Sink or SING!—so, have you ever actually sunk on stage, and what did you learn from it?

      BHAHAHA yes! The real question is: which story do I tell?

      Here’s something juicy: I was 21 years old performing in NEW YORK FREAKING CITY. It was the Encore Fringe Series at Soho Playhouse – my “big break.” Or so I thought. I was fresh, naive, and had no clue how brutal the music industry – or vocal health – could be.

      We were three shows into a five-show run, and I got so sick. Fevers, green gunk, you name it. Worst of all, I was losing my voice. The first two shows I scraped through, but by show three, I was toast.

      Midway through the set, my voice completely disappeared. Picture this: I’m on stage, croaking out Amy Winehouse while the sound tech cranks my mic to the gods. I still had It’s a Man’s World and Respect to go – two powerhouse anthems that require, well… a voice.

      I came off stage mortified. Embarrassed. But mostly just needing to crawl into bed. Looking back now, with all the vocal coaching training I’ve done since, I know how lucky I was not to do permanent damage that night. Because when a singer gets sick, it all comes down to technique – but even the best technique can’t save a voice that’s already gone.

      That was my biggest sink moment. But hey – cheers to it. Because from that, I learned how to take care of the instrument I rely on most. And now? I teach others how to do the same.

      How do you get even the most reluctant audience members to let go and embrace their inner diva?

        Liquid courage definitely helps! Vocal coach Amelie might cringe, but human Amelie says: grab that whisky and go for gold, you superstar!

        The truth is, most people who hesitate to sing aren’t lacking ability – they’re afraid of judgement. So I tackle that head-on, right at the start of the show. I get everyone to turn to their left, then their right, and look at the people next to them. Then I say, “If you’re worried about being judged tonight, that’s who’ll do it.”

        Everyone laughs, the tension breaks, and boom – the elephant in the room is acknowledged. From there, it’s all uphill and full-volume. And honestly, once we start singing people forget to care and just have fun. That’s the magic.

        What’s the wildest or most unexpected thing that’s happened during a live show so far?

          Ohhh, this one wasn’t during Sink or SING! – but it’s too wild not to share.

          I was on tour at Perth World Fringe, performing in a tent. Midway through the show, I’d just finished a number and headed to the “backstage area,” which was basically… outside the tent. One of our dancers was mid-quick-change, boobs out, the whole thing – when suddenly, chaos erupted.

          Little did I know, the bride-to-be from a very white-girl-wasted hen’s party had bolted across the stage like an Olympic sprinter right after my song, and barged straight into our backstage area… and into boobs.

          Security ended up escorting her out of the show, but I’ll never forget the stunned silence, followed by absolute hysterics. The dancer took it like a champ. Just another day in the world of live cabaret!

          You’ve performed everywhere from opera stages to NYC—how does it feel bringing your voice (and voice coaching secrets) to the Fringe?

            Performing original work always feels the same – like a messy cocktail of wanting to throw up and being wildly overjoyed, like a kid on red cordial.

            Whether it’s music theatre, jazz, classical, contemporary pop, wedding gigs, funerals, or birthdays – the stage, and the intent behind what I do, is always the same: to share my love for storytelling through song and bring people together.

            Every audience brings something different. From the prestige of an opera crowd to the gritty hustle of a cute old theatre in Soho, I’ve seen how varied the energy can be. But the one constant is the stage. I know it like the back of my hand. Once the mic is on, the lights hit, and the music starts – I feel like I’m in my bedroom singing into a hairbrush.

            I’ve poured my heart into building Sink or SING! at the Adelaide Fringe – aka the second-largest Fringe festival in the world – and now, to take it to Edinburgh? I’m absolutely buzzing! Sharing this interactive singing party on a world-class stage, with a global audience? It’s a dream come true.

            What’s one vocal tip from the show that absolutely everyone should be using—even if it’s just in the car?

              Only one vocal tip?! Torture. There’s so much wisdom to share! But if I had to choose just one tiiiiiny nugget of gold… it would be this:

              If your voice feels like it’s on fire – that’s not right, lol. Please stop.

              Discomfort is your body’s way of saying, “Mate, something’s off.” Good vocal health should feel easy and supported – not strained or painful. (And yes, even screamo can be done safely using false vocal folds!) 

              So whether you’re belting Beyoncé in the car or in an argument with your partner, tune into how your voice feels. If it hurts, it’s not healthy. Your voice should feel like it’s working with you, not against you.

              Your vocal cords are tiny, delicate muscles. Treat them like the vocal queens they are. 

              Amelie makes her Edinburgh debut with the show after successful runs at Adelaide’s Cabaret Fringe Festival and Gluttony at Adelaide Fringe. Sink or SING! will run in the Bothie at Gilded Balloon’s Patter House at 21:20, 30 July to 24 August. https://tickets.gildedballoon.co.uk/event/14:5873/

              REVIEW: Under Milk Wood


              Rating: 4 out of 5.

              A rich, characterful performance by a seasoned storyteller full of charm.


              I wasn’t quite sure what I was walking into with Under Milk Wood, but Guy Masterson’s one-man performance turned out to be an unexpectedly absorbing way to spend an evening. He’s been performing this piece for over 30 years, and that experience really comes through – not just in his command of the material but in the easy confidence with which he holds the stage.

              For nearly two hours, with no set and no props, Masterson paints an entire Welsh village into existence. His shifts between characters are so quick and seamless you sometimes forget there’s only one person up there. From the soft-spoken to the slightly grotesque, each figure in Thomas’s dreamlike world is given distinct voice and personality. It’s impressive how he brings them all to life.

              There were moments, though, where the pace sagged slightly or a few lines didn’t land as crisply as they might have. At times the articulation could have been a touch clearer, and there’s no denying that sustaining the energy for such a demanding solo piece takes its toll. To his credit, Masterson handled it with humour and charm, and the audience responded to that warmth. It never became an issue, just something gently noticeable here and there.

              It’s a lot to take in – Thomas’s language is rich, poetic and often meandering – and while the performance is never dull, there were a few points where it felt just a little long. That said, it’s still quite something to keep a crowd engaged for that length of time with no help at all, and it speaks to both the strength of the material and Masterson’s connection to it.

              What really stays with you is the sense of care and affection in the delivery. This isn’t just a recital of a famous text – it’s storytelling with soul. Masterson clearly knows every rhythm and beat of this play, and watching him share it is a real treat. Even with the odd stumble, it’s an impressive achievement, and you can’t help but admire the sheer stamina and memory it takes to pull off something like this.

              Whether you’re a Dylan Thomas fan or just someone who enjoys a good tale told well, this is a performance full of colour, humour and heart. It’s a classic brought vividly to life by someone who knows it inside out.

              IN CONVERSATION WITH: Xi Liu

              Tango in Silk is a ballroom work that tells a personal story of cultural collision and identity through movement. Drawing from the sharp, grounded rhythm of Argentine tango and the elegance of 1930s Shanghai, the piece follows the silent transformation of an East Asian woman newly arrived in the UK. Her gestures evolve from hesitant and fragile to bold and assertive — a physical metaphor of cultural friction, resistance, and eventual fusion. We sat down with Xi Liu to discuss their upcoming performances.


              What inspired you to blend Argentine tango with 1930s Shanghai aesthetics, and how did that fusion come to life in your choreography?

              This fusion was born from my personal journey of cultural displacement and reconstruction. I came to the UK as an Eastern woman trained in Chinese and ballroom dance, carrying the visual and emotional codes of my origin — the qipao, the gestures, the sense of restraint. But here, I was surrounded by a Western structure of expression:  tango. In my choreography, the qipao represents my heritage; tango, the unfamiliar rhythm I tried to follow. The work physically maps my process — from quiet imitation, to cultural collision, to a more empowered integration where I no longer choose one over the other, but embrace both.

              Tango in Silk tells a story of migration and transformation — how much of your own experience informed this narrative?

              It’s very personal. The story mirrors my emotional journey as a migrant: arriving in a foreign country, feeling ungrounded, trying to blend in by adopting its movement language. At first, I danced in the way I thought I was expected to — following, copying, being careful not to stand out. Over time, I realized that losing my original cultural self wasn’t necessary to adapt. The most powerful transformation was not assimilation, but synthesis. This piece reflects that realization: that identity doesn’t have to be either/or — it can be both, in tension and in harmony.

              The qipao plays a striking role in the finale — what does this costume choice mean to you in the context of the performance?

              The qipao is not just a costume — it’s a symbol of home, of origin, and of the expectations I grew up with. It reminds me of how I was taught to move: with elegance, with silence, with control. In the performance, I start dancing in a qipao with Chinese movements, then shift to tango, and finally attempt to merge the two. The qipao becomes a constant — not something I discard, but something I carry into a new language. It represents the part of myself I choose to keep, even while evolving.

              What conversations or reflections do you hope Tango in Silk might spark for viewers after they leave the performance?

              I hope the piece invites viewers to rethink identity — not as a fixed label, but as something that shifts, stretches, and evolves across time and culture. Especially for anyone navigating between two worlds, it can be tempting to erase one side to survive in the other. But I hope this work suggests that true strength lies in holding both, and allowing them to reshape each other. It’s not about abandoning who you were, but expanding who you can become.

              See Xi Liu at the following performances:

              • 2 August, 6:45pm – C aurora, C ARTS, Edinburgh Fringe 

              • 9 August, 6:00pm – The Courtyard Theatre, Camden Fringe, London Tickets & info: https://camdenfringe.com/events/tango-in-silk/ 

              • 31 August, 8:00pm – The Etcetera Theatre, After Fringe Fest, London Tickets & info: https://www.citizenticket.com/events/etcetera-theatre/tango-in-silk/

              IN CONVERSATION WITH: Seri Yanai and Daniel Wishes

              Space Hippo is an award-winning epic puppet sci-fi from Japan. Using over 200 intricately designed hand-cut puppets, Space Hippo tells the story of a hippopotamus sent into space to save the world from impending doom. We sat down with designer and performer, Seri Yanai and writer and performer, Daniel Wishes.


              What was the very first spark that made you think, “Yes, let’s launch a hippo into space”?

              Seri wanted to make a show about animals, while Daniel wanted to make a sci-fi show, so we put the ideas together. We thought a hippo would be a great animal for a space adventure because they’re very cute but also one of the most dangerous animals on Earth. 

              With over 200 hand-cut puppets in the show, has Space Hippo ever had a backstage puppet mishap worthy of its own sci-fi subplot?

              Yes, definitely! Often when we perform the show, a puppet mysteriously goes missing, forcing us to think quickly and improvise. We’re pretty sure that it’s aliens moving our puppets around because it couldn’t possibly be our mistake. We’re pros.

              How do you balance absurd comedy and epic storytelling while still sneaking in a surprisingly emotional or environmental punch?

              That’s difficult to answer. It’s different for every story. If you have a message that you really care about and believe is important, there are many ways you can share that message. We chose to share ours with an absurd, silly and emotional shadow puppet show.

              If Space Hippo had a soundtrack, what would be her theme song—and who would voice her in the animated movie version?

              For a theme song, maybe Starman by David Bowie or really any of Bowie’s space-themed anthems. For her voice, we would be honoured to get the legendary Academy Award-winning actress Jane Fonda. Her space adventure, Barbarella, was a big inspiration for us and we admire her contributions to political activism and workout videos.

              You’ve toured the world with this show—what’s the weirdest or most delightful audience reaction you’ve ever had?

              Once, after the show, an audience member told us “I can’t believe you made me cry over a piece of paper!” (Our puppets are made out of cut-up paper) We have also had many people scream “Lizardman!” at us when we least expected it. (Lizardman is everyone’s favourite character in the show.)

              Shadow puppetry seems like pure magic; what’s your favourite moment of visual trickery in Space Hippo that always makes people gasp or laugh?

              One moment is when we make a spaceship fly off the screen onto the walls and ceiling of the venue. It only works in certain types of venues but it is really fun when we can do it. There is another moment, but I shouldn’t mention it because of spoilers.

              Space Hippo will open on Thursday 31 July and run through to Monday 24 August, daily at 12:30 (except 19 August) at Underbelly Cowgate, Big Belly. https://underbellyedinburgh.co.uk/events/event/space-hippo

              REVIEW: Till the Stars Come Down


              Rating: 4 out of 5.

              A darkly funny, emotionally tangled wedding day drama that balances biting social commentary with moments of genuine humour.

              Beth Steel’s Till the Stars Come Down, which transfers to the Theatre Royal Haymarket after its debut at the Dorfman in January 2024, delivers a raucous, emotionally charged depiction of a northern family wrestling with the past, the present, and each other — all against the backdrop of what should be a happy wedding day.

              Set in a former mining town, Steel’s play captures a community bound by tradition and suspicion, particularly toward outsiders – in this case, Polish immigrants. From the moment the audience is thrown into the thick of the wedding preparations, the atmosphere simmers with tension. There’s no formal introduction to characters or setting; we’re dropped into the family dynamic mid-flow, which brings immediacy but also confusion as relationships slowly become clear. This slightly disorienting start is redeemed as the performances settle and characters begin to shine, particularly when Dorothy Atkinson’s riotous Aunt Carol arrives, releasing the audience into laughter and breaking the play’s early stilted comedy.

              The staging makes some bold choices, but not all land. The semi-in-the-round setup feels half-hearted, not fully immersive, and the revolving stage, while effective in highlighting different reactions and perspectives, is becoming a somewhat overused device in contemporary theatre. That said, it does help heighten the “pressure-cooker” feeling, echoing the volatility of a family trying to hold itself together.

              At its core, this is a study of a fractured family clinging to the appearance of unity. The three sisters – Sylvia (Sinéad Matthews), Maggie (Aisling Loftus), and Hazel (Lucy Black) – navigate long-held resentments and fragile loyalties with mixed clarity. While Maggie and Hazel’s interactions feel natural and rooted in shared history, the dynamics among all three sisters could have used a bit more depth or inside jokes to really bring their connection to the forefront. 

              The cast as a whole delivers strong performances, with several standouts. Atkinson as Aunt Carol is the comedic heartbeat of the piece, providing much-needed levity while never slipping into caricature. Ruby Thompson, as the bride’s teenage daughter Leanne, brings a youthful emotional clarity that grounds the more chaotic adult world around her. Alan Williams’ portrayal of father Tony is understated and droll, masterfully walking the line between pathetic and endearing. The chemistry between Sylvia and Marek (Julian Kostov) is nuanced — at times heartwarming, at others painfully awkward — underscoring the complexity of cross-cultural relationships in insular communities.

              Racism toward Marek, a Polish outsider marrying into this deeply northern, working-class family, runs as a painful undercurrent throughout the play. Steel handles this with care and nuance, weaving in moments of confrontation and quiet understanding. While the eventual resolution in this area may feel a touch tidy, it avoids veering into sentimentality.

              What Till the Stars Come Down does best is capture the chaos, contradictions, and intensity of family gatherings, where everything can fall apart just as easily as it can come together. Though the script crams in a few too many revelations for a single afternoon and leans on some dramatic conveniences, it remains a powerfully human piece of theatre. It’s a mess of love, loss, anger, and laughter, much like real families, and it’s in that messiness where the play truly resonates.

              A compelling, uncomfortable, and sharply observed portrait of family life, both funny and deeply tragic, Till the Stars Come Down is well worth catching before it leaves the West End this September.

              IN CONVERSATION WITH: Krishna Istha

              We sat down with Krishna Istha to discuss their new play THUNDER THIGHS, playing as part of StoryFest at the National Youth Theatre on the 21st and 22nd of July. This play is a teen comedy-drama set against the backdrop of roller derby, an energetic sport played on roller skates that prides itself on being inclusive. Get your tickets here.


              Krishna, what drew you to the world of roller derby as the setting for THUNDER THIGHS?

              One of my favourite movies growing up was Whip It with Elliot Page. I was OBSESSED. Little did I know I was queer then, but what a queer film to be obsessed with (one where the lead is now also a trans guy!). In my adulthood, I’ve got pals who play derby and I’m generally surrounded by derby fans — it’s such a big part of queer culture in so many ways. And I’ve always wanted to write a “sports” play/film/TV show that wasn’t about cis men. 

              Roller derby is known for its inclusivity and chaotic energy—how do you capture that spirit in the play?

              By depicting queer drama, obv! Honestly, it’s shaping up to be such a FUN and chaotic play (in the best possible way). The spirit of it is really coming through thanks to our director Nancy Zamit and assistant director Louise Beresford — they’re both incredible at creating fun and silliness, which is helping keep that DIY, underdogs, comedic energy alive on stage.

              The team in THUNDER THIGHS are described as ‘lovable misfits’ and the play features queer characters. How important was it for you to tell a story with such diverse and vibrant characters?

              So important! As a queer, trans person of colour, I rarely saw myself represented in anything until a few years ago — and even now, it’s slim pickings. Everything I make is about portraying diverse characters, but in an accessible way. The story isn’t even about how these characters are ‘diverse’, it’s mostly about friendship, which anyone can relate to. But very rarely do ‘diverse’ characters get to tell universal stories that aren’t about their marginalisation. This makes it sound so serious — but honestly, it’s just an hour of fun, with cute, fierce, funny characters that you wanna be BFFs with.  

              What’s the biggest ‘battle’ off the track that the team faces, and why do you think it resonates with young people today?

              All these characters are going through different things in their lives — whether it’s being underestimated because of how they look, having a single mum and five siblings to take care of while balancing that with their derby commitment, or being totally scared of conflict (both physically and emotionally) but still sticking with the team because you don’t fit in anywhere else. There’s definitely a lot of classic teen angst that young people from any era could relate to — but there are also undertones of the stuff young people face today, like social media stress or the rise of right-wing politics that affect their identities in various ways. It’s about a bunch of very different young people finding family within this derby team — not because of, but in spite of, the outside world having wronged them. 

              Nancy Zamit is directing, bringing experience from Mischief Theatre. How does her comedic background influence the tone of the show?
              Nancy is just incredible! This is a new collaboration, and I’ve loved working with her because she brings so much of the text to life visually and comedically. I’ve never written a ‘traditional’ play — I’ve done a lot of form-pushing theatre and written for screen — so it’s been wild to see how she takes what I write and stages it in such brilliant ways. A lot of silly physical comedy too, which I love! She’s HILARIOUS! We’ve also been working with assistant director Louise Beresford, who’s been a massive dramaturgical support and also ridiculously funny. We just did a week of R&D, and I honestly spent the entire week laughing my head off at what Nancy and Louise were coming up with in the room. A script can be funny, sure, but actually translating that to the stage is a whole other thing — without Nancy and Louise, this could’ve been an absolute disaster, haha!

              If you had to describe THUNDER THIGHS in one roller derby term or phrase, what would it be?

              BUTTS

              IN CONVERSATION WITH: Mirren Wilson

              We sat down with Mirren Wilson, writer of PALS, a female-led and female-produced Scottish adventure-comedy. Expect outrageous chaos, a sprinkling of Gaelic, and plenty of Scottish banter.

              PALS is running from 30th July – 12th August at Gilded Balloon, Patter House, Doonstairs as part of Edinburgh Fringe Festival. Get your tickets here.


              What drove you to centre PALS around a group of young Scottish women, and how did you balance authenticity with comedy in telling their stories?

              I’ll be honest, frustration drove me to write PALS and a lack of representation drove me to focus the play on 4 young Scottish women.

              When I was a young actor, I was consistently struggling to find roles that I wanted to play or monologues that I was interested in performing – I personally have zero interest in playing anything other than a strong woman. When I looked at the Scottish stages, the roles for me simply weren’t there in the same way they were for my male-counterparts. When I looked at the wider-stages of the UK, or even on screen, Scottish women are never given the lead. So I wanted to write something that could attempt to change that and fill a massive gap in the market.

              I looked at the stories and experiences of my friends. Despite what the rom-coms of our generations tell us, our lives do not revolve around falling in love and getting a boyfriend. Our lives are complicated and messy; we’re trying to achieve our goals, but family, work, studying, social media and societal pressures all seem to be getting in the way. Using that as a starting point, the comedy came quite naturally from the banter friends create amongst themselves – I love that every friendship has their own language and in-jokes.

              Why was it important to move beyond trauma-driven narratives for women, and how did that influence the tone and themes of the play?

              I fully respect and appreciate that stories of women’s trauma are important and need to be told. However, as a young woman, I am enraged and heartbroken that that is all that we seem to be seeing on stage and screen. Women are not identified solely by our trauma, nor is that our whole story. It’s sometimes part of our story, yes, but there’s so much more to us; women are ambitious, strong, hilarious, bolshy, messy, emotional, and whatever the hell we want to be. The main goal was always to create a fun and uplifting piece of theatre, where women feel inspired and seen. 

              How did you approach writing each character’s personal struggles—like PCOS, caregiving, and self-doubt—while keeping the story uplifting and relatable?

              It’s a very British thing to feel the need to present to the world that “everything is fine” but this has been negatively elevated by Instagram culture and there’s now a subconscious need to document and showcase that “everything is perfect”. 

              I spent a lot of time thinking about what is going on in these girls’ lives vs. what we actually get to see. It was a very intentional thing that we don’t spend too long in a moment of sadness, so that it’s not emotionally heavy for too long. We just see snippets of the girls’ struggles, before the rest of the girls jump in with chaos and the story moves on.

              The tone is overall uplifting because there’s a lot of comedy in the way the girls cope with their individual issues; Taylor is a wind-up merchant to hide her self-doubt, Sadie is sarcastic and focuses her energy on her friends to distract her from her caring responsibilities, Flo is overwhelming positive to deal with her work/ money worries and Claire hysterically overprepares to remain in control when her body feels out of control with a PCOS diagnosis.

              What role does humour play in PALS, especially in navigating serious themes without diminishing their emotional weight?

              Humour is a huge part of Scottish culture and it’s an integral feature of PALS. Scots are naturally witty people, and I believe it’s ingrained into our observations of the world and the way in which we speak. We see men be crude and funny all the time, but it’s not something we see as much from young women –  We’re not always pretty and polite! One of my favourite moments in PALS is when Taylor says “I can’t believe somebody pumped her,” and the audience would gasp, chortle and scream. 

              Humour is also a massive coping mechanism. A couple of reviews last year commented on how we’d ping from a really emotional moment, to heightened comedy and how it felt disconnected and clunky. I completely disagree – I’ve always been struck by how someone can reveal their deepest, darkest thoughts, but then immediately crack out a hysterical joke. I wanted to emphasise in PALS, that these characters all have issues in their lives that are getting them down, but they’re not immobilized by them. They just have to get on with their lives and cope as best as they can. We all know the saying: “If I don’t laugh, I’ll cry.”

              How have audiences responded to seeing messy, flawed, funny young women on stage, and did any reactions surprise you?

              I think audiences came in expecting to have a laugh, but were then surprised when they connected emotionally to the show. It was lovely to hear audiences say “Oh my god, I’m such a Claire!” or “My sister is Flo”. We had so many messages on Instagram from all kinds of people thanking us for creating this show, how it moved them and how it inspired them. These characters have been so loved and appreciated.

              Within the first few performances, audience members came out hysterically crying. We really panicked and thought “Oh no, what have we done, what’s happened?” Once we chatted more and more to our audiences, people wanted to hug us and we realised that these heightened emotions were due to the fact that people really connected with the show.Seeing middle-aged men and dads coming out, bashfully, with red eyes was a bit of a surprise, but also a truly beautiful thing.

              Given the interest from teachers, what are your hopes for PALS in terms of its future impact on Scottish drama education and representation?

              We had so many teachers last year asking if they could use the script for their curricular drama exams. They explained that it’s a yearly struggle to find comprehensive roles that can showcase the girls in their classes. This year we’re engaging with a couple of local schools and colleges to organised trips to PALS at the Edinburgh Fringe.

              In an ideal world, I’d love to get the script published and dished out to schools, to show young girls that we are wonderful and we deserve the limelight, but simply to give them fun roles to play. There’s a small revolution happening in the emerging Scottish theatre companies, because we’re the ones writing these authentic stories for average gals. This needs to filter through to the big theatres and education, so that women can grow up with roles to explore and the knowledge that their stories can and should be told.

              IN CONVERSATION WITH: Shireen Mula

              The Flip Side explores the truth behind the screens of 20 somethings who have come from near and far to live in London. This play is an innovative new work developed during workshops with young people from Compass Collective and National Youth Theatre. We sat down with writer, Shireen Mula to discuss the upcoming production.


              Shireen, what inspired you to explore the “bizarre customs and brutal rituals” of growing up in London today in The Flip Side? The play is a coming-of-age story created with young talents from National Youth Theatre and Compass Collective. How did this collaboration shape the storytelling? 

              The script is no longer about “bizarre customs/brutal rituals” so here is a rewrite of this question: How did your collaboration with El Henderson and this group of young actors shape the play?

              Over three days El and I workshopped with the group. We explored questions including: what art excites you and why, what’s important to you, what don’t we talk about enough and when you were a child what did you think life would be like for you in your twenties? We played games, did a lot of improvising, some skill sharing and some dancing too. I listened a lot during these three days, made notes, took audio recordings as well as some photos. My job really was to listen to the voices of our wonderful group and make sure that the resulting script truly represented them and our three days together. The group and our time together largely impacted the script – they are the inspiration for it entirely. On the final day I pitched the group an idea. Luckily they liked it! 

              How does The Flip Side reflect the diverse experiences of young people, especially refugees and asylum seekers, growing up in London? 

              The vast range of lives and experiences represented in The Flip Side reflects the diversity of the group we co-created the piece with. The show intertwines the lives of five 20-somethings in London over one day from 5am – 5am. While some sleep others work the night shift. While some live with their parents others live in hostels. We meet people who have come from near and far to live in London, hear about topics that range from what they eat for breakfast to who they love and what keeps them up at night. 

              Eleanor Henderson is directing this production – what unique perspective does she bring to the story?

              El is a brilliant workshop facilitate and director who brings a deep sense of care for the young people she works with. Her ability to make everyone in the group feel safe and provide a sense of belonging really was what allowed our group to come together so easily in such a short period of time. El always has the group and their experience at heart; ensuring that everyone is heard and pushing to ensure that everyone is given the best opportunity to showcase themselves both during the process and the resulting product. We also found out that El was the only one of us who actually grew up in London! 

              The title The Flip Side suggests looking at things from a different angle. What ‘flip side’ or hidden truths do you hope audiences take away from the show?

              Without giving too much away… the play poses questions around isolation, work, and the cost of living in London by exposing the underbelly of the city in a surprising, authentic and thoughtful manner. 

              If you could sum up growing up in London today in one word or phrase, what would it be — and how does that energy pulse through your play?

              “London is the route to so many possibilities and successes but also the cause of so many problems” – one of our group members said this during our time together. The play explores both the wonders and excesses of the city as well as the mundane and ordinary lives of its residents. 

              The Flip Side plays 16th and 17th July at the National Youth Theatre Workshop Theatre. Tickets are available here.

              IN CONVERSATION WITH: Martha Geelan

              We sat down for an exclusive interview with Martha Geelan, director of In The Land of Eagles. Performing at The Pleasance during EdFringe this sweeping story unveils the legacy of Albania and the self determination of its people, whilst subtly highlighting contemporary themes of national identity, resistance against oppression and the complexities of power.


              What resonated most deeply with you on a personal level when you first read Alex Reynolds’ script for In the Land of Eagles?

              This is a piece about family. It’s about a young woman trying to understand her place in the world. It’s about the complex intersection of history and geography and identity. And most of all, it’s a love letter to the people who have come before us; the power of that, the discomfort of it, the ongoing internal quest to understand who we are and where we come from.


              How did you approach directing a story that blends intimate family memory with a lesser-known national history like Albania’s?

              One of the things I love most about this piece is that we, the audience, learn about Albania as the character does. She knows no more or less than us as her journey of discovery begins. The character’s intention to understand Albania is so intertwined with her want to understand herself that, in that sense, the family memory and the national history feel one and the same.


              Were there any moments in the rehearsal room where the emotional truth of the play surprised even you?

              Lots! The piece is full of surprises, I think, emotional and otherwise.


              How do you balance theatrical poetry and humour with the underlying themes of loss and identity in your direction of the piece?

              My taste, and Alex’s too, is that humour and lightness of touch can be fundamental in accessing and dealing with difficult themes. This is a character trying to process huge feelings of loss and grief and identity – but she’s also just a person. And in this context, she’s our friend. We are hers. She needs us to go with her on her journey and a crucial part of that is making us like her, charming us, finding ways to divert and cope conversationally with the discomfort of what she’s trying to confront.

              What conversations do you hope this story will spark between generations who come to see it together?

              I hope this will remind people how special and exciting and emotional it can be to think about where we’ve all come from. I hope this will remind people how much there is to be learned from what came before us. I hope this will remind someone to call their grandpa. It reminded me.


              As a director, what was the most challenging—and most rewarding—element of bringing such a deeply personal and culturally specific story to life for a Fringe audience?

              Being entrusted with this story has been a real honour. Being a part of Alex’s journey of discovery into her history and her identity has been such a joy. My job is to make sure audiences feel that too. And with the incredible team we have assembled, with Alex’s engaging, captivating performance of her own words, I have absolutely no doubt they will.

              In the Land of Eagles by Alex Reynolds is presented by Natalie Allison Productions and directed by Martha Geelan. The production will premiere at Edinburgh Fringe 2025, 15:00 at Pleasance Courtyard, Baby Grand, 30 July – Monday 25 August.
              https://www.pleasance.co.uk/event/land-eagles