Have a Gander at The Edinburgh Fringe 2025 – Homo(sapien)

A person holding a large wooden cross adorned with colorful flowers, standing on a beach with the ocean visible in the background.

Joey is a Bad Gay™. He’s never had sex with a man, not even once. But tonight is the night, and he is determined to make sure he will not die a virgin. Filled with Catholic guilt, internalised homophobia and fear of the local GAA lads – Joey embarks on a hapless quest to ‘get his hole’ before it’s too late. Homo(sapien) is a joyful, queer, coming-of-age one-man show about overcoming your fears.


Homo(sapien) is a one man solo show. It’s a dark comedy solo show about growing up gay and Catholic in the West of Ireland. It follows ‘bad gay’ Joey as he goes on a misguided, chaotic odyssey to ‘get his hole’ over the course of one messy weekend.

It’s a rollercoaster, it’s messy, it’s fun! The vibes being if Fleabag, It’s a Sin, and Derry Girls all had a love-child together. It would be one f**ked up kid!

The creative team is a dreamy one! Jen McGregor is directing. We met in 2022 when she cast me in the Masks of Oscar Wilde, and we have had a great creative relationship since. Jen’s been attached to Homo(sapien) from the very first, and has supported me greatly as an emerging/early career actor-writer trying to build my career in Scotland Emma Ruse is producing, Emma is brilliant. She has really made such an impact on the Scottish theatre scene in such a comparatively short space of time, and really setting a strong example for how to implement fair work practices across the scene and has made it her ethos to support the development of emerging artists. Earlier in the development process, Matt McBrier helped with dramaturgy – he’s brilliant and has such a good head for seeing the broad picture and streamlining the story to this. Both James Ley and Jo Clifford were my mentors on this project. What a dream to have two incredible Scottish playwrights supporting me. I am such a fan of James’s work – he tells these unique queer, modern stories that transcend the ‘kill your gays’ trope and are just side-splittingly funny, and Jo has this skill of breaking tradition with her writing and telling stories that really take you into the world and touch you deeply. Her wealth of knowledge around religion made such important contributions to Homo(sapien). Both James and Jo really contributed to my development as a playwright.

The process involved in creating the performance is multifaceted. Once I was able to take the writer’s hat off and start acting, for me, especially with a solo-show, this begins in solitude. I took the script and I consumed it in any way I could – I read it over and over and over, I recorded and listened to the whole script several times. I took it on runs, walks, to the gym. And each time I consumed it, I tried to learn something new about a character, or discover something I hadn’t realised about the story. Repeat repeat repeat repeat repeat. So I can go into day one of rehearsals with the story in my bones, and then the real fun begins! Jen and I collaborate so well, and every idea she had for blocking or character would instantly feel right. Jen has such a natural, instinctive way of telling the story through the stagecraft of the piece. Be it in movement, prop, light or sound. We’d work through sections, then bring them together. Once on its feet as an actor, I’d slash away lines that I’d written that could be ‘acted’. And, yeah, day in, day out, eventually the performance is discovered!


It feels familiar and entirely different! This will be my fourth year performing in the fringe but the first time performing something I have written! It’s nice to be going in with an understanding of the beast and there’s comfort there knowing what I’m going into. And I’m also excited by diving into the total unknown of what it’ll be like bringing my own show here! The pressure’s certainly higher, but it’s an exciting pressure. I feel ready.

I think what sets this play apart is its specificity. It transports you to the Galway, in the west of Ireland. It explores modern Catholicism and GAA culture that’s prevalent in Ireland. It’s specific, it’s modern. And still it’s relatable because the journey it explores is universal. It’s a queer coming-of-age and we’ve seen these before, but what’s different about Homo(sapien) is it’s both a very Gen-Z coming-of-age, and it’s also incredibly belated, the character being in his mid-late twenties. What further sets it apart, perhaps from other stories in the genre, is it isn’t a coming out story. It’s not about the protagonist’s struggle to accept himself in a society that doesn’t accept him. It’s about a protagonist who holds himself back, despite the supportive world he finds himself in. I think that’s what makes Homo(sapien) unique.


For me, this play doesn’t have a binary or agenda. It’s not pro or against the themes it deals with; religion, GAA etc, even if Joey begins quite anti these organisations. To me, it’s about finding peace and conflict resolution. And so I want the audience members leaving with a sense of catharsis, and I want them to have seen themselves in some part of the story, be it a particular character, moment or scenario. I think that’s the beauty of theatre, and the arts in general, audiences will see parts of themselves reflected in the art and I hope they do with Homo(sapien).

I like to think that people from all walks of life would take something from Homo(sapien), but specifically, I think it’ll particularly appeal to LGBTQ+ audiences, Gen-Z audiences and Irish audience. But also we brought it to Dublin and my mum rounded the troops and brought maybe 95% of her contacts to the show and it landed strongly with them too. I think – who it isn’t for – is the faint of heart. The show doesn’t shy away from what it explores: sex, religion, and the fear of violence. It’s a rollercoaster of a show, and Joey is messy anti-hero.


For me, after a day performing, flyering, being sociable and seeing shows, I’ll probably end the day alone or with my boyfriend with a book to recharge and disappear into the greenspace of Edinburgh, the Botanics or walk the Water of Leith, to charge the batteries!

In my ideal world, it’d be less oversaturated, there’d be more breathing room in between the shows, they wouldn’t be so jam-packed. Of course, in one way, that’s the beauty of the Fringe, but it means the venues have all the power, and sometimes that’s not the best for the artist. I’m lucky to be getting wonderful support from my venue, but it’s not the norm. Huge guarantees of return can leave independent artists financially wrecked. It’s a beast, the Fringe, I guess that’s the joy of it too – the sheer chaos – and there’s so much potential in performing here, but yeah, it has it’s problems. There are too many people for artists to get proper support.



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