Award-winning choreographer and dancer Jennifer Irons returns to the Fringe this year with a “a roller disco about immigration”, which immediately caught my eye.

The show’s blurb promises “German techno, dancing salmon and absurd humour” as Jennifer takes us on a “chaotic, darkly surreal quest through colonialism, identity and the search for belonging”.

Keen to find out more about the show – and Jennifer’s works as a performer and choreographer, and her past Edinburgh experiences – we sat down for conversation ahead of her latest Festival run. Or skate, I guess.

CM: Can we start by talking about the content of your show? What is ‘Bad Immigrant’ about and what story does it tell?
JI: ‘Bad Immigrant’ is a roller disco about immigration. Obvs. 

It’s about skating through the absurdity of being told to “go home” post‑Brexit, only to discover my native Canada doesn’t really want me either.

It tells the story of me strapping on roller-skates, to chase this mad dream of becoming a roller dance champion.

Really it’s a vehicle to explore identity, colonialism and belonging through the most joyful and absurd way possible. It’s silly, it’s dark, it’s heartfelt. A kind of existential crisis with sequins, skates and… salmon.

CM: What themes are explored in the show?
JI: Being “good” or “bad” depending on arbitrary rules. The freedom in the joy of skating and in its resistance. As outsiders, queer, black community tradition, the antidote to bureaucratic hostility.

It’s about being “othered” in spaces you thought were home, all while trying to find your place in amongst all the messiness of being human. Also; a significant amount of falling over. 

CM: What was your inspiration for this? What made you want to make a show about this?
JI: It started like all great comedies: Brexit. I was told I didn’t belong in the UK, only to realise Canada didn’t want me either. Apparently I’m too old, too broke, and not… sporty enough.

Channelling Elizabeth Manley – Canada’s figure skating hero – a thought struck me: if she made it big on ice, why not me on wheels? Nevermind that I don’t actually know how to skate.

So I built a show out of that absurdity; documenting the journey, deportation nightmares, identity crises and how to perfect the “Crazy Legs” move.

CM: Tell us about the creative process of making the show.
JI: It’s taken fricking AGES. Loads of research, speaking to my fellow immigrants, indigenous folks, stay-at-homes, Brexiteers, swingers, power lifters, refugees, skaters.

I worked with a cognitive anthropologist and cultural psychotherapist exploring tribalism, and in‑groups/out‑groups. Tried out stand-up comedy. Stalked people on social media and strong armed them to help make the show.

Director Tom Roden from New Art Club rewriting my awful jokes, Harshini Karunaratne doing the most gorgeous and bonkers projection design and creative captions, poet and artist Majid Dhana, textile artist Sophie Passmore, Lou Cope dramaturgy, Nicolai Hart Hansen design, and Stew Baxter from Life Band on score.

We did loads of test runs, got brutally honest feedback – after one, someone wrote, “Jen can’t sing”. So we recorded that song and it’s now available on Bandcamp. Through the whole process, I’ve been trying to learn to skate. There’s a lot of looking ridiculous.

It’s all documented for your enjoyment. It’s been trial, so much error, tears, injuries – real and imagined – laughter, chaos, spandex, and ultimately a roller disco of resistance.

From all this, we’ve ended up with not just a show, but an incredible project called ‘Skates4Mates’ that shares the joy of rollerskating with people seeking sanctuary. We had fifteen people who took part last year and are now local skating celebs. There is another group starting this autumn. It’s the best. 

CM: Can you tell us a bit more about your relationship with the UK? What brought you here originally and what made you stay?
JI: I was born in the Yukon, Northern Canada. All wilderness and people-in-your-business and 24-hour winter darkness. It’s cold, isolated and the entire population could fit into Wembley Stadium. Three times over.  

I came here 25 years ago via a passport that I earned by the nature of being born to a father who was originally from the UK. I fell hard for London’s 24-hour, non-stop wild-ness. All these PEOPLE! Accents, food, music, histories… I loved it. 

I stayed because it felt like home. I dove into choreographing, dancing, storytelling. This place gave me a mic and a dancefloor – there’s not a lot of those in the Yukon.

Living in the UK all this time, I have often questioned where ‘home’ actually is. And with it, identity, belonging and why there are fourteen different words for ‘bun.’

CM: Is this a political show? Do you want to make points or change minds? Who is it aimed at?
JI: It’s political in the sense that borders are political. But it’s not a sermon; more like a glitter‑rebel manifesto. I want people questioning absurd systems while having a ridiculous amount of fun.

It’s aimed at anyone who’s ever felt excluded; or onlookers who think the system makes sense. You might laugh, cringe, get mad at me, get mad at the absurdity. It’s inclusive and fully captioned. It has tested 100% positive for skate propaganda.

CM: You’ve brought shows to Edinburgh before – what made you decide to bring this one to the Festival?
JI: The Fringe is the grand mammie of festivals, while at the same time not being a festival at all. It’s like a mad gameshow where no one – audiences or artists – knows the rules, or what the grand prize is; but we’re all playing our hearts out.

My last solo show, ‘Yukon Ho!’, found its people here. Where else can you get a grand welcome with a show that kills seven squirrels and gets the audience to kiss a toe? So why not come back with roller skates and system critique? 

CM: What do you like about Edinburgh and the Festival? What are you looking forward to?
JI: The energy! The randomness! The bagpipers at dawn, strangers becoming audience, that penguin drinking gin at 2pm on a Tuesday. 

I’m looking forward to roller-skating with local Edi-rollerdancers, eating food that makes no sense and catching as many wild and weird shows as I can. I adore the randomness. The city becomes a theatre itself. Also, the Paradise Palms. That is all.

CM: What will you do when not performing? Are there shows you’d like to see?
JI: Sneak out for loch dip, buy a vintage monocle from a guy named Tinnie in a coffee shop, maybe have a cry in a dark corner. 

So. Many. Shows. I love variety, energy, storytelling that pulls you in unexpectedly.

Big recommends for: 

• ‘Do All The Things’ by A&E Comedy
• ‘Trouble, Struggle, Bubble And Squeak’ by Victoria Melody
• ‘English Ako’ by Jules Chan
• ‘Pub Grub’ by Luke Wright
• ‘Tour’ by Sh!t Theatre
• ‘Thanks for Being Here’ from Ontroerend Goed
• ‘Small Town Boys’ from Shaper/ Caper
• ‘We All Fall Down’ from Because You Never Asked 
• ‘Strangers And Revelations’ from Theatre3

My eight year old is coming, so I cannot wait to stumble on a show featuring singing dinosaurs or ninja sharks.

CM: Can we talk a bit about your past? Have you always worked in the arts?
JI: I used to coerce the neighbourhood kids into putting on shows for our parents and ruining their social lives in the process. So I’ve always wanted to get people together to move, laugh, eat, drink, dance, party. 

I worked in events management for skateboarding competitions and club nights. Then I trained in dance and worked in every temp job going and every pub in London at night.

From there it was choreography, weird theatre, technology, music videos, solo shows, mass movement projects. I have always been fascinated by culture and all the wild ways we behave.

I studied Multicultural Sociology and, in 2009, I founded ironINC in Africa; arts for social and professional development working in partnership with organisations in the Middle East and Africa. 

So yes, I’ve been bossing people around to perform since childhood, and somehow it stuck. Though there was that one time I worked at a petting zoo until I got bit by a baby goat. 

CM: What’s more satisfying: a pure choreography job or doing a show like this one?
JI: They’re different highs. Pure choreography gives me such a zing. I used to watch the Superbowl half time show growing up – before Kendrick won it – and I loved the patterns people could make just by the way they moved across the field. I loved the combination of the artistic with logistic. 

A show like ‘Bad Immigrant’ lets me combine movement, story, politics, absurd humour and speaking to people directly. Mass choreography is like directing a pop-up community that does a show that might last 30 minutes, but the relationships and impact of being part of something like that lasts much, much longer.

CM: What have been the highlights of your working life so far?
JI: Without trying to give a Miss Universe pageant answer – the people. I’ve been so fortunate to meet and work people from all over the world.

There is also an immense satisfaction watching hundreds or even thousands of people dancing together, sharing this incredible experience and feeling “Oh, I have a hand in this”. It feels good to think that the tiny thing we do has an impact. 

It was cool when ‘Yukon Ho!’ landed at the Fringe and on Olivia Colman’s radar. Founding Skates4Mates is probably one of the best things I’ve ever been involved with.

We won a Music Video Award – Best Choreography for ‘Wave Machines’ – and I got to thank my mom for never telling me to get real job. 

CM: What aims and ambitions do you have for the future?
JI: Make Skates4Mates global. I’m having delusions of grandeur and see a Roller Dance Academy. The House Of Irons. Where anyone can learn to skate, get into movement, community, joy. Though with a name like that it may be confused with a medieval dungeon.

I’ll keep making shows that interrogate identity, belonging, absurdity. I want performance spaces to be inclusive, rebellious tech‑meets‑dance parties. Ultimately, I’d like art that provokes kindness, curiosity, movement, resistance, in absurd sparkle.

CM: What’s coming up next after this?
JI: A nap. After Fringe, I’m touring to Sanctuary Cities across the UK with ‘Bad Immigrant’. And opening ‘The House Of Irons’ maybe?

Expect weird outdoor spectacle, maybe squirrels, always skating, asking those big questions, even if the answer is, “Be nicer to each other and just dance harder”.

Jennifer Irons performed ‘Bad Immigrant’ at Assembly George Square at Edinburgh Festival 2025.

LINKS: jenniferirons.co.uk

Photo: Rosie Powell