Fantasy Fringe

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Fantasy Fringe 〰️

We’re excited about the Edinburgh Fringe, but it’s clear it needs to change. A lot of people have a lot of ideas, but nothing has really happened yet. So we decided to ask the comedians themselves: in your fantasy, what would the Fringe look like? It might have been a mistake.

Benjamin Alborough, connoisseur of interactive comedy, has created this interactive roll-a-dice game for you, the reigning monarch of the Fringe, to decide how you will spend your day (and money).

This is an interactive article

At various points you will have the opportunity to dictate its course by rolling a di, much like my Edinburgh Fringe Show Absolute Monopoly. I recommend using a physical di, but you can google search “roll dice” and it’ll automatically give you a number between 1 and 6.

Another year, another fringe! You are Chief Executive of the Fringe Society. Your salary is commensurate with experience; you’ve done 100 things so you’re paid £100k.

You load up Wikipedia and search “Edinburgh Fringe Festival”. Wow, quite a read. This is going to take all morning! You reach for your first drink of the day:

ROLL DICE

[1] You throw back your tea. Whole milk, 5 sugars. Tastes great.

[2] You reach for your mug of coffee. Lovely and piping hot, but your assistant forgot to leave the spoon in. You make a mental note to fire her.

[3] You gently sip at your Aperol Spritz. You feel woozy and remember the kids.

[4] A lukewarm glass of salt water. You gargle and spit it on the floor. What’s good for your mouth ulcers is great for the hardwood, you reckon.

[5] Milk and eggs mixed together; a lovely tall glass of Meggs. Really helps you void yourself.

[6] You “drink” a bag of crushed glass. You instantly die. REROLL
—

Refreshed, nourished or possibly dead - either way you’ve had a drink and that’s the first task of the day done. Tick! Time for a break and a treat. You pop out of the office, admiring the new beanbags in the entrance hall. £250,000 of capital development money well spent.

Standing in line at Cafe Nero, you bump into someone you recognise:

ROLL DICE

[1] It’s Ian Scuttle, journalist for the Times and a fellow member of the Garrick club. You chat for ages about his plan to give comedy a go. He’s not performed before but he’s booked a run at one of the Big Four for the month. You think this is a fantastic idea to “bridge the divide”. You’ll help him get some agents in.

[2] It’s Alison Kress, incredibly powerful agent and a fellow member of the Garrick club. She’s taking up a mixture of 24 year old debutantes and sex offenders from the 90s. The debutantes have already booked runs at the Soho Theatre because Alison is so influential. You think this is a fantastic idea, and puts much less pressure on artists while they’re up at the Fringe. You’ll see if you can help them with accommodation.

[3] It’s Kylie Sampson, Artistic Director for one of the Big Four venues and a fellow member of the Garrick club. She talks about how a theatre company she booked is lined up to have some big commercial success this year and so she has offered them free accommodation to help smooth over this process. You think this is a fantastic idea, as it shows how the Fringe can be a launch pad for success. You’ll have to arrange a meeting with them about touring.

[4] It’s Andy Crush, winner of the Comedy Award back in ‘98 and a newly minted member of the Garrick club. There must have been over fifty shows on that year! He’s pivoted to travel documentaries now and is on his fifth series of “Crush Goes To The Orient”. You think this is fantastic news, and shows the ability of the Comedy Award to generate long term success. You make plans to go for dinner with him.

[5] It’s Councillor Fiona Corrothers, old friend and fellow member of the Garrick club whose recent controversial bill to ban short-term lets in the City has just passed committee. The knock-on effects of this bill will make it more difficult for visitors to seek accommodation during the month of August. This is a hot button issue for the team, but you’ve known Fiona for years and agree that it’s best not to talk shop. You agree to chat more after the Fringe is over.

[6] It’s Gabe Bryant-Jones, a comedian whose star is just beginning to rise. He catches your eye but you blank him. Performers always want something out of you.

—

Treat in hand, you return to your office. You recline on your beanbag and go back to reading Wikipedia. Fifteen minutes later and you’re up to date with the current state of the comedy industry. There are a number of pressing issues on your desk and you can only solve one of them right now:

ROLL DICE

[1 - 2] It appears the brainiacs down in IT have forgotten to make a Fringe App this year and suddenly lots of journalists are knocking on your door asking annoying questions like “why” and “how”. You pop down to the server room and give them a scolding. They respond by saying that no-one ever allocated them money. You are already tweeting an apology by the time they finish their sentence. It doesn’t go down well but it ultimately doesn’t matter as alternatives will inevitably emerge and it will be offset by your crucial efforts to foster the Festival as a trade fair.

[3 - 4] Some nasty people have been writing nasty articles on nasty websites about the beanbag money that the government gave you. You calmly remind them, over Twitter, that the grant you received was ringfenced to soft chairs. You remind yourself to use some of the redevelopment money to hire someone to handle your comms channels. Your time is better spent fostering the Festival as a trade fair.

[5 - 6] For the first time ever, there have been fewer shows registered from this year to last. You suspect that the only possible reason could be accommodation and refuse to consider any others. You tell your team to tweet out a list of University accommodation resources under a thread titled “Sowwy”. Then you go back to more pressing matters. Your time is better spent fostering the Festival as a trade fair.

—

A full day’s work. You pack your bags and head back home to London. See you next year Edinburgh!

Benjamin Alborough: Absolute Monopoly runs at Assembly George Square from 2-28th August, 5:50pm. Tickets here

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