Lead Performance by Julia Taudevin

Bouffon Direction by Tim Licata

The Tron Theatre

With current polling across the UK set for an profoundly unsettling tipping of the scales for the next general election, it’ll take more than a spoonful of sugar to make this much needed medicine go down – as a revolting death rattle of the ‘Blighty Spirit’ seems intent on reclaiming that ‘former glory’ of Rule Britannia.

As audience meet Auntie Empire, created by Scotland’s boundary‑pushing theatre company Disaster Plan, who storms into Summerhall as part of Manipulate with a blistering blend of bouffon clowning, grotesque satire, and unruly theatricality as a horrid fusion of Mary Poppins, Matilda’s Trunchbull, and the frontbenches of the Right-wing’s finest. Written and performed by Julia Taudevin, the piece positions its titular figure as a decaying embodiment of Britannia—her teacup hat perched absurdly above a body in comic freefall, visibly succumbing to its own rot. This aesthetic, steeped in exaggeration and grime, draws directly from bouffon traditions and embraces the grotesque with gleeful abandon.

The production’s comedic strengths lie in its willingness to push everything too far: the outsized tweeds, the false teeth, the unruly limbs, and a sound design that burbles and gurgles with an unashamedly scatological pulse. Taudevin delivers a performance that ricochets between razor‑sharp satire and riotous absurdity, supported by a formidable creative team of Fergus Dunnet and Gretchen Maynard-Hahn, whose puppetry, effects, and costumes elevate the chaos into a fully realised aesthetic world; all framed in Fraser Lappin’s set dressing – a country estate with skeletons stuffed in ever closet.

Yet beneath the muck and mayhem sits a deliberate political provocation. The work skewers imperial nostalgia with startling clarity, lampooning the myths of nationhood and the grotesque self‑regard of the British Empire. Its commentary on Scotland’s entanglement with colonial systems is threaded through the comedy, sometimes subtly, sometimes with a directness that lands like a slapped arse. The production leans into the idea of an empire that refuses to acknowledge its own decay, confronting the continued silence around colonial violence and historical complicity. But that’s what we’re best at, right? Stiff upper lip, Keep Calm, and whatever new slogan we have…

Where Auntie Empire occasionally falters in its structural rhythm. The show’s deliberately scattershot style; sharp pivots, abrupt reveals, and sudden tonal lurches can create a choppiness that disrupts momentum. Revelations arrive quickly but don’t always have space to settle, making the narrative feel fragmented. This fragmentation aligns thematically with the chaos of collapse, yet it sometimes undercuts the piece’s more potent statements, dispersing impact rather than consolidating it.

Still, the strength of Taudevin’s vision, combined with Disaster Plan’s flair for anarchic theatricality, renders Auntie Empire a striking and resonant work. It is messy, visceral, and unapologetically political—an absurdist excavation of power, memory and the rotting myths that cling to nationhood. As satire, it bites; as performance, it brims with invention; and as a provocation, it refuses to be ignored – you’ve had enough chances to bury the head.

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