Review: Trans People Are Awful, Fringe 2026

I can, without hesitation of any description, say that Trans People Are Awful has been my favourite showing at the 2026 Fringe and quite possibly of the year.  

This show drops us into the garage in which Boy has brought the many body parts of the cis men he’s dismembered in order to build himself the body to match the man he has always been and continues to become.

At turns comedic in the most delicious and viscerally campy ways, and contemplative when reflecting on the gravity of living whilst trans and other related considerations, this play has given me life, if at the expense of the aforementioned murder victims.

Setting the scene (of the crimes)

Bunker One at Pleasance Courtyard proved to be a truly perfect venue for this show, as the ceilings were low and the doors were industrial, the lighting was blue and eerie, and the continual sound of drips fully put us into the world of the play upon entering the venue.

I may be getting slightly ahead of myself here, but right up top I want to shout out the noticeably invisible and seamless stage management of the performance. The amount of props and set dressing, while remaining very appropriate for the confines of Fringe, was still incredibly robust and intricate.

The attention to detail, the preset done in such a way that objects seemed to appear effortlessly in the hands of the actor, accompanied by the actor’s full confidence everything would be in place when needed was clear.

The cue calling throughout the show felt not only accurate to the artistic intentions of the rest of the creative team, but also beautifully called in such a way that made it seem like the technical elements were in conversation with the actor and the text – its own full character in the play.

Performance

Speaking of characters in the play, I would be remiss were I not now to foist any and every amount of praise onto Ros Watt for their tour de force performance as Boy. This role demands an incredibly physical actor with a profound range and depth of emotion in order to fully convey this story and these words, and Watt not only meets that prerequisite but performs far above and beyond.

Some of the moments that linger for me were the absolutely Dionysian (gender) euphoria exuding from Watt as he danced around the room to high energy music and strobing lights while surrounded by variations on an appendage in several liquid-filled jars, the genuine care and connection they made with their most recent victim as a further understanding into self washed across Boy’s words, thoughts, and actions.

A phone call at the end of the play that laid bare such a complex yet distilled portrait of a person who has been moving through the world with many unearned obstacles and the perseverance to not only provide for and know himself but also to show kindness and care toward others inside this world of severed limbs and Rubik’s cubes.

These all are a credit to Ros Watt as both actor and playwright. In this piece, Watt effectively explores the nuance of what it is to love the patchwork self we create, the loneliness and risk of existing as a manifestation of what society at large fears about itself or fears it may need to accomplish, and the unbridled joy and grief that come along with moving through transition.

Overall

I am so grateful to have been able to see this play, and I have every confidence that the rest of the sold out audiences throughout the remainder of the show’s Fringe run will feel similarly to me.

This is a piece that contains so much, I really wish I could see it another couple times to be sure I’ve caught everything. The best consolation prize for the fact that I will not be able to do this, is that the show is already transferring to London for an already nearly sold out run.

I urge anyone reading this, if you did not get to see this play at Fringe or even if you did, find any future production of this play and get yourself a seat.