A show that defies—and delights—in being nothing

The Dublin Fringe Festival 2026 has once again proven why it’s a hotbed for boundary-pushing, unapologetically bold, and often confounding theatre. Among its standout offerings is Slugs, the Edinburgh sell-out hit that has crawled its way to the Project Arts Centre, leaving audiences simultaneously disgusted, delighted, and deeply unsettled. Created by the Canadian duo The Creepy Boys—a name that feels like a literal warning label for anyone prone to feeling “over-weirded” by unconventional narratives—this show is a chaotic, absurdist, and unabashedly filthy love letter to the art of not making sense. And yet, in its refusal to cohere, it somehow says more about society’s obsessions than a dozen earnest political plays ever could.

The art of offensive politeness

From the moment the lights dim, Slugs announces itself as a show that refuses to play by the rules. The title alone is a provocation: why Slugs? Why not something more poetic, more profound? This is theatre for the love of God. The answer, of course, is that the show is about nothing—or at least, it insists it is. But as the performance unfolds, it becomes clear that Slugs is actually about everything: the way society fixates on bodies, identities, and trauma, only to twist those fixations into grotesque parodies of itself.

The costumes, a mix of neon alien pop-art and something vaguely resembling sentient maggots, hint at the show’s aesthetic: a collision of the uncanny and the absurd. But it’s the performances of S.E. Grummett and Sam Kruger that elevate Slugs from mere shock value into something far more interesting. Their “thrash performance” is a masterclass in unhinged energy and grotesque art. They don’t just act; they exist on stage, their bodies and voices weaponised against the audience’s expectations. There’s no fourth wall here; audience and performers seem to merge together in an uncomfortable setting where the audience has no choice but to laugh at the assembly of puppetry, pantomime horse, and disaster.

The grotesque mirror

In an era where political discourse around gender, trauma, and belonging feels like an endless, exhausting loop of debates and think pieces, Slugs arrives like a middle finger to the idea that art must be meaningful in any traditional sense. The show’s genius lies in its refusal to engage with these topics on their terms. Instead, it mirrors society’s obsessions back at it, twisted into something grotesque and ridiculous.

Consider the show’s treatment of nudity and bodily exposure. In most contexts, such displays might be framed as vulnerable, political, or even liberating. In Slugs, they become the joke—a way to expose the absurdity of our fixation on bodies and identities. The performers flaunt themselves not to shock for shock’s sake, but to highlight how society’s obsession with what bodies are or can do often overshadows the far more pressing issues around us. The play seems to ask: “So you’re obsessed with what a transgender person’s body can do? Here’s your answer—now what about gun violence?” It’s a brutal, unflinching confrontation with our own priorities, and it leaves the audience squirming in the best possible way.

The weaponisation of absurdity

What makes Slugs so effective is its ability to mock its audience while dancing with the very things it mocks. The show doesn’t just reject political debates—it weaponises them. By pushing its absurdity to the limit, it forces us to confront why we fixate on certain topics and not others. Why do we care so deeply about gender identity in one moment and turn a blind eye to systemic violence in the next? Slugs doesn’t provide answers, but it does hold up a mirror, and the reflection is not pretty.

This is where the genius of The Creepy Boys shines. Merging on-stage elements of absurdist clowning, chaos theory, and techno music, they create a performance that feels like a fever dream—equal parts hilarious and horrifying. The show’s energy is relentless, its pacing erratic, and its humour so dark it borders on the nihilistic. Yet, amid the chaos, there’s a strange kind of polish. The performance is meticulously crafted to feel like a mess, but it’s a mess with a purpose. It’s offensive, yes, but in the way a sledgehammer is offensive: blunt, unrefined, and impossible to ignore.

A well-deserved prize

It’s no surprise, then, that Slugs has already garnered critical acclaim. After being nominated for Best Comedy Show at the 2025 Edinburgh Fringe Festival (Edinburgh Comedy Awards), the show claimed another accolade at the Dublin Fringe: The Spirit of Wit Award (in memory of Moira Brady Averill). This award, presented at the Dublin Fringe Festival, honours artists who take risks and defy categorisation with bold, unconventional creativity. Slugs embodies this spirit perfectly. It’s a show that refuses to be boxed in, that revels in its own lack of meaning, and yet somehow ends up saying more about the world than most plays ever attempt.

A show for the bold (and the brave)

Slugs is not for the faint of heart. It’s a show that demands you check your expectations at the door and embrace the chaos. If you’re looking for a traditional narrative, a tidy resolution, or even a coherent message, look elsewhere. But if you’re willing to surrender to the madness—to laugh, cringe, and occasionally gasp—then Slugs is a revelatory experience.

In a festival packed with groundbreaking work, Slugs stands out as a reminder that theatre doesn’t always have to be about something to say something. Sometimes, the most profound statements are the ones that refuse to be serious, that revel in the filthy, the absurd, and the downright ridiculous. Slugs is one of those statements. It’s dirty, it’s fun, and it’s about nothing—and that, in itself, is everything.

Don’t miss the party

I promise you this: Slugs isn’t just a must-see show—especially if you’re in your forties or fifties and miss the divine spirit that John Waters first screened in Baltimore’s underground church halls. Just for the love of punk, don’t overthink it. After all, Slugs is a show about nothing.

And these are just my late-night thoughts, jealous of the lucky ones in Melbourne who’ll catch it during the 2026 Fringe Festival this October.

Here is a look from the PuSh International Performing Arts Festival 2026:

Notes

Co-created, written, and performed by S.E. Grummett and Sam Kruger.
Directed by George Jibson.
A production by The Creepy Boys.
Presented as part of Dublin Fringe Festival 2026.