AN EDINBURGH RANT

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This is a rant about Edinburgh. I haven’t read it. I just wrote it. I have become frustrated. Here’s why.

There are so many people in Edinburgh who are ill. And before I came up here people predicted illness: people said it’s burdensome and worrying and we should worry and I thought “yeah, right, agree” and then some people suggested some ways people could help themselves like orange juice or whatever and then it gets down to it and it’s a fucking free-for-all and there is nobody anywhere offering anything.

If you’re in a hit show, you’re probably ok. If you’re in a co-production you’re probably also (at least financially) ok. But there are companies out there that are fucked financially and critically and emotionally and physically and mentally and where is their support.

You have to pay to do this. The Fringe Society take your money and then, I dunno, put up some fucking fences and design a horrible image for their posters: I have no idea, not a clue what they usefully do with that enormous pot of money. I presume they have some sort of opening party for the press and they all get shitfaced because people in regular non-freelance employment have that sort of benefit and they don’t even realise it’s a benefit.

But where is the support from the venues that take artists money and then fuck off and support the big shows, where is the support from the Fringe, where is the support – from all those people who need this place to succeed and thrive – for the venue technicians and the street teams and the artists – the fucking artists – that bring all that money in?

If you imagine the day in the life of an average performer here: they get up, they flyer for several hours in the rain – being treated like shit by the majority of horrible old men – they check their sales report and find out they have two people in and both are comps, they do their show and nobody comes, they get a horrible review from a critic that they worked really hard to get in, or a mediocre review but they read about other shows doing better than them, and they read reviews for shows they know are no good and probably offensive but are sold out and got five stars because someone famous is in it, and then they flyer some more and go to summerhall and see a show and it's disappointing but full and they maybe buy an overpriced beer and feel bad about that and then they go back to a strange flat they spent a month's wages on, and hope that tomorrow might be a bit better, only to find their presales are still at zero and they will be going home in debt. Of course of course of course people are ill. Because there is not an iota of support for any of them and they really should have known better.

The Fringe, quite frankly, can go burn. There are lots of beautiful things up here but it is making people ill and all so that the Underbelly can underpay everyone doing the actual work and then spend loads of money on a big purple elephant so twats from London can come up to the rain and watch Gyles Brandreth sing Kylie or whatever they do in that fucking tent every night. What's the point of it? 

I am so angry. I’m angry that this is the state of the arts: where you have to financially imperil yourself, destroy your mental health, make yourself sick, leave your support network, on the off-chance that Lyn Gardner and a programmer from Watford might come see your show. This is not good enough. And suggesting “drink more juice” and “call your mum” is not the solution. As with all mental health: it is not the individual’s responsibility – it absolutely needs to be pushed to the top.

So, the Fringe Society can answer my question: what the fuck do you think you’re playing at? What’s your plan? You need to get a grip. Because at the moment you are imperilling the mental health of young artists through your actions and inactions and if you think you’re not, talk to literally anyone flyering anywhere at the Fringe today and prepare to step into the fucking unknown. 

P.S. If someone could direct this at the Fringe Society that would be helpful.

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