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Musket drills, squatting kitchens and DIY hope: Victoria Melody on how comedy powers her Fringe revolution

30 Jul 2025

We talked to Victoria Melody about her EdFringe show, Trouble, Struggle, Bubble and Squeak.

They remind us that change doesn’t always come from the top – it comes from the ground up


Victoria, let's start with the extraordinary background to your show. You went through a divorce and joined a historical re-enactment society in a move to find new paths in life. That's where you came across the 17th-century radicals, the Diggers. So let's begin with that part of your story.

I’m an anthropologist, so I embed myself in Britain’s niche communities for around four years and make shows about the people I meet and how they change me. I’ve been a beauty queen, a championship dog handler, a funeral director and a pigeon fancier.

When my marriage broke down, I was feeling lost. I started looking for answers in weird places and I stumbled across a history book by Christopher Hill about the English Civil War and the radical groups that emerged during that time, including the Diggers.

So, I joined a 17th-century historical re-enactment society. While I was learning about 17th-century army drills and setting fire to myself with lit musket cord, I was also falling into a wormhole about radical politics, land rights and community action. That’s what the show grew out of.

The Diggers believed the earth was a common treasury for everyone. They took direct action – not petitions or polite requests, just people putting their bodies on the land and saying, “This is ours, and we’re going to use it to survive.”

They lasted about a year before they were crushed by landowners and authorities, but their ideas lived on. They were rooted in their communities – radical and hopeful. They believed in equality and were hungry for a different kind of world.

You also discovered that there are people around today like the Diggers and their stories have become the basis of your show. Can you give us some examples?

Modern-day Diggers are everywhere. Ordinary people who step up when no one else does. When the state fails them, they take action.

The show is based on my time working with a community in Whitehawk – a council estate in East Brighton that borders the South Downs National Park, but it’s not included in it, so the land is constantly under threat from industrial development. It’s a place of contrasts. Around half the children live in poverty and the life expectancy for men is ten years less than the rest of Brighton.

The show is hopeful though, celebrating the everyday heroes who don’t make history books but should. Something happened between the community and the developers that was almost miraculous – like a modern-day fable.

In what ways do you think we are currently let down by people in power, and how can we go about improving our lot?

Here’s one example that comes directly from the show. The NHS currently spends around £20 billion a year dealing with malnutrition. And yet we got rid of community meals on wheels.

One of the people I met, Bryan Coyle, who founded a community meals on wheels service, had to squat a disused kitchen just to start feeding people. He and his volunteers, many of them pensioners, were technically trespassing in order to cook meals for vulnerable people. That’s where we’re at – people having to break the law to feed their neighbours.

The people in this show aren’t waiting for permission or policy. They’re feeding people, protecting land and saving spaces that matter. Not because they’ve got loads of time or money, but because no one else is doing it. And that’s what’s so powerful. They remind us that change doesn’t always come from the top – it comes from the ground up.

You've collaborated for the first time with political comedian and director Mark Thomas. Tell us about that relationship and how it’s influenced the show.

I’ve always admired Mark and the way he mixes activism, humour and storytelling. Working with him has been a proper masterclass.

He challenged me to make this show without film, which is a first for me. I usually use film to help audiences believe the stories, to see the real people and the settings I’m talking about. Without that, I’ve had to step up my writing and performance and describe things more vividly. He’s taught me how to move at a different pace, and I think the show is stronger for it.

It's a serious topic which you approach through the medium of comedy and storytelling. What do you think comedy can bring to these issues?

Comedy helps people stay open. When you hit someone with pure facts or hard politics, they can shut down. But if you make them laugh, you make a connection.

I come from a big, chaotic working-class family. I learned early on that if I wanted to be heard, I had to be loud and funny. I think humour gives us breathing space. It allows us to talk about grief, injustice and anger without it feeling like a lecture.

What would you like audiences to take away from the show?

I hope they feel the joy in people and the beauty in community. The news is full of stories about monsters running the world. This show offers an alternative – a reminder that real power lives in ordinary people doing extraordinary things.

I want people to come away feeling hopeful and maybe a bit fired up. Not in a shouty political way, but in a “Let’s roll up our sleeves and do something” way. Because it’s already happening. We just need to notice it and join in.

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