t is festival season and that means that in the next month there is so many great comedy festivals to look forward to! This month we are looking at some of the great shows that you can see at the Edinburgh Fringe. So take note because we are going to give you all the information you need for just a handful of some of the great shows happening this year!

Bury The Hatchet

Location:   Queen Dome at Pleasance Dome(Venue 23)

Dates:  Jul 30th-11th, 13th-25th

Time: 15:50

Price: £14 Concessions £13

Ticket Link: https://www.edfringe.com/tickets/whats-on/bury-the-hatchet

Hello! Tell us about yourself?

My name’s Sasha Wilson. I’m a LAMDA-trained Bulgarian-American actor, writer, and Artistic Director of the multi-award-winning Out Of The Forest Theatre. From a worryingly young age, I’ve had a fondness for the macabre—my favourite childhood book was Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark, which alarmed my mother and in hindsight, explains a lot.

Now I make historically driven, feminist theatre with a taste for the ghastly, the gloriously strange and the inconvenient truths people would rather leave buried. I’ve served as a judge for the London Horror Festival’s 10th Anniversary Playwriting Competition and as a panelist for Bloomsbury Publishing on “Creating Dread” (yes, that was the actual title).

Horror remains my first and most enduring love—because if you want to understand a person, a nation, or a doomed empire, just ask what keeps them up at night. Or better yet, write a play about it and set it to live folk music.

Tell us all about your show!

Bury The Hatchet is a true crime podcast meets bluegrass musical about Lizzie Borden, America’s favourite alleged murderess. Andrew and Abby Borden are found dead on the morning of August 4th, 1892.

Their daughter Lizzie is the main suspect. Tried but acquitted of the crime, the story goes she wielded the axe that killed them. Come for the axe, stay for the harmonies. It’s a true crime fever dream with live music, unreliable narration, and an ensemble cast who switch roles faster than you can say “Wait, didn’t she just die?”

We’re resurrecting this blood-soaked Off West End Award winning gem because nothing says “summer fun” like Victorian repression, family resentment and unsolved murder.

What other acts are you looking forward to seeing at the fringe?

I’m counting the minutes until I see Lovett, a prequel to Sweeney Todd that’s already living rent-free in my brain. No Good Drunk by Stacie Burrows looks like a Southern Gothic trip I will not emotionally recover from. Callum Patrick Hughes—storyteller, sorcerer, man most likely to break your heart via guitar—is back with God Is Dead and I Killed Him. And Clare Fraenkel, Offie-winning ensemble member from The Brief Life & Mysterious Death of Boris III, King of Bulgaria is doing her first solo Ed Fringe performance of I Was A German about reconnecting with her family’s Jewish-German roots.

Have you done the fringe before? What are the key pieces of advice you have been given or would give to new groups or people performing at the fringe.

Yes, and lived to tell the tale. In 2023 we came for the first time with The Brief Life & Mysterious Death of Boris III, King of Bulgaria  and picked up a few awards along the way. Here’s my advice: the Fringe is not a wellness retreat.

You will not sleep, hydrate, or remember where your charger is. Just jump in at the deep end, see the plays, wield those flyers, raid those food trucks and have a blast. Talk to people! Artists, venue staff, audiences – we make theatre because it’s a form of collective connection and where better than a CITY of people watching stuff, making stuff and thinking about stuff. 

After the final curtain, my advice would be to go to the sea for at least a week. Speak to no one and cleanse your sins, and then prepare to do it all over again next year.

Talk us through your daily routine for a day at the Fringe

The light slants through the curtains and hits your face like a tax audit. You are no longer a human being but a sort of sentient mascara smudge. You make tea, scroll reviews in bed for pull quotes, pretend you’re “just checking the copy” while losing half an hour to reels of someone else’s pug in a pasta hat.

Eventually remember you’re meant to be at a Pleasance Industry Mixer—a phrase that conjures both hope and mild gastrointestinal distress. Panic shower. Throw on an outfit with the manic precision of someone trying to sneak into the Met Gala through the tradesman’s entrance. Leg it to the Courtyard clutching a coffee like it’s a lifeline, which, frankly, it is.

After considering your net sufficiently worked, you do a quick flyering circuit, smile too much, and eat a halloumi wrap on the move to the Queen Dome for the ritual transformation: hair, makeup, frock, get-in, go.

Then: Showtime.
Sixty minutes of theatre magic, blood, sweat, and tight blackouts. Rapturous applause. You take one (1) breath and immediately start breaking down the set like an exhausted roadie.

Post-show debrief, preferably accompanied by something cold and alcoholic. You’ve barely finished sighing when someone says, “There’s a thing at Summerhall,” and off you go, sprinting across town in the name of Art™.

You bump into someone you haven’t seen in five years. You pretend you’re emotionally stable. You check your watch. It’s 3am. Of course it is.

You cross the Meadows like a Regency heroine returning from scandal. At home, someone’s making pot noodles. You compare notes on that day’s theatrical triumphs and catastrophes. Fall asleep mid-sentence, mid-thought, mid-noodle.

And tomorrow, you do it all again.

Ok, where is your favourite place to eat at the Fringe?

Noodles and Dumplings near Summerhall is just insane. The garlic sliced beef noodles in broth literally saved my life on one or two occasions. If they ever shut it down, I will lead a public mourning ritual. Possibly a candlelit vigil in Bristo Square. Possibly arson.

Best thing about performing at the fringe?

That moment in the show when everything clicks, the audience goes breathless, and you think, oh right—this is why I ran away and joined the theatre. Also, sharing space with the most feral, brilliant creatives in the country. There’s nothing like the Fringe—it’s a glittering, chaotic, emotional rollercoaster and I love it.

What is the hardest part about performing at the Fringe?

It’s like trying to give your Hamlet while simultaneously running a marathon through a crowded nightclub, while also doing your own marketing, your own get-ins, and your own dishes. Emotionally? Everyone’s falling apart in different directions—some are having the best time of their lives, some are crying in the loos. You have to find your people and hold onto them like it’s Titanic.

Do you bring anything special from home to make it feel more special whilst you are away?

I brought a little bonsai tree with me—because nothing says serenity like attempting to keep a miniature tree alive during Fringe. It sat in the corner of my bedroom radiating calm and the quiet understanding that one of us is definitely doing better at remaining zen than the other.

What are your best hacks to save money whilst at the Fringe?

Please don’t ask me or my bank account that question… but if you ask my producer she says; bring your own stapler & glue, bring tupperware because you should at least ATTEMPT to cook food and carry it with you. Remember you don’t have to see EVERYTHING, and your pass for your venue is INVALUABLE.

What would be your top three items every performer must take to the fringe?

Ergonomic pillow. You’re not 22 anymore and your spine knows it. In fact, even our 22 year old Stage Manager wanted one. So if you’re reading this at any age BRING THE PILLOW.

Waterproof jacket/bag. At some point, Edinburgh will try to take you out with sideways rain.

That one bulky kitchen item you think you won’t need—you will. You will want the slow cooker. You will want the blender. Bring the spaghetti pot. You deserve hot meals.

What’s the secret to successful flyering?

Work out your elevator pitch and make sure it’s pithy, snappy and quick! You don’t need to convince everyone to come to your show. You just need to find the right audience members. So if they don’t seem interested, don’t force it. There is nothing more uncomfortable than being pestered by a desperate flyerer, unwept tears clinging to the corner of the eyes, begging you to come see their one person nude clown piece.

Find your like minded shows and reach out to them – go and see their work and if you like it, their audiences will like what you make. As with dating, be interested rather than interesting. Vibe with what they’re giving you, which sometimes is nothing and in that case, move on. There are other fish in the sea or punters in Pleasance Courtyard, as the case may be.

If people want to find out more about you where can they follow you on social media?

@outoftheforesttheatre for all things Bury The Hatchet and @_sasha_wilson_  to see my obsession with good food…

And finally in three words – Why should people come and see the show?

Unsolved. Unhinged. Unmissable.

Thank you again for all your support in reading and engaging with the website.

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