Trans People Are Awful - Ros Watt on identity, shame and Trans People Are Awful at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe
- Cultural Dose

- Aug 14
- 6 min read
Writer and performer Ros Watt brings Trans People Are Awful to the Edinburgh Festival Fringe, a pitch-black comedy thriller that explores identity, shame and the stories people create in order to survive. Set in a garage in North-East Scotland, the show follows a young trans man as he attempts to document his own twisted "perfect transition" through increasingly grotesque acts of violence. Along the way, it questions what happens when marginalised characters are only allowed to be sympathetic or inspirational, and what is lost when complexity itself begins to feel dangerous. We caught up with Ros Watt to hear more about the show.

For anyone who hasn't heard of it yet, give us the elevator pitch: what is Trans People Are Awful and why should people come?
In a nutshell, ‘Trans People Are Awful’ is a dark comedy about a trans guy that murders cis men for body parts set in North East Scotland. The audience are witnessing ‘Boy’ create a video explaining his reasoning for his kills as he builds up to performing the ultimate trans surgery on himself - replacing his body parts with his victims’. He is logical and focused, but utterly ridiculous and chaotic. The show speaks on identity, morality and the effects of extreme loneliness.
I think it opens up important conversations, but never in a preachy way. It pushes the audience to laugh and take pleasure in a horrible person's actions.
People should come, because I genuinely believe it's a fun show that also has a heart. I think it speaks on certain topics in a unique way and could really get you thinking.
The show opens with Boy in a garage, covered in blood, recording a video for his future true-crime fans. What drew you to true crime as the framing for this story?
I’ve always been fascinated by true crime and how it is even a genre that people ‘enjoy’. There is something about someone sat eating a sandwich on a Tuesday afternoon and listening to a podcast about the most gruesome and unbelievable event that could happen. Humans are completely enthralled by the morbid and the shocking, myself included, and I wanted to interrogate it and explore what drives people to these extreme places in the first place and why we constantly want to witness it.
True crime is a gift of a subject to a writer, as the stakes are immediately incredibly high before anything has happened. I thought about what the most twisted thing a trans person could do in pursuit of their transition, and I started from there.
Boy's plan is horrifying, but the show asks audiences to understand him rather than simply laugh at him or condemn him. Why was that important to you?
I really hope the audience will laugh at him - he is ridiculous; and I believe the audience should absolutely condemn his actions. If it wasn’t clear already - murder is wrong. However, I think there is something in the audience understanding what can drive a person to the most extreme place and as a byproduct, the most heinous actions. I want the audience to understand how he arrived at this place, how his twisted logic led him there and how his lived experience and interaction with the outside world affected him. The show prods at a question around what society's responsibility is towards one another, and how we can avoid tragedies, in many forms, from occurring as a result of a lack of community.
Francesca Moody Productions, the team behind Fleabag and Baby Reindeer, selected the show as one of five recipients of their Shedload-of-Future Fund. What has that support meant for the piece?
It's been unbelievable. I’m still somewhat in disbelief. I mean, financially, it's been huge. Without their support, the show wouldn't be what it is. It didn’t just gift me props and a sound designer, it gifted me time off from my ‘normal person’ job so I could dedicate more energy just towards the work.
Also having Shedload and Francesca Moody Productions believe in the work and be willing to back it is so wonderful. This is a dangerous show to be making in the current climate, and there are many days I ponder if I’m being completely foolish. So having so many people come forward and affirm that this is an important conversation I’m opening up has been vital to the whole process.
Trans stories often get placed in familiar boxes: tragic, inspirational, educational. Which of those were you most keen to push against with this show? Or which themes did you want to make sure definitely came through?
This is an interesting question. ‘Trans stories’ it feels are always under the pressure to cover all bases and speak about all the issues on transness all at once. It’s like they have to say that trans people aren’t inherently bad, they must touch on the nuance of the trans experience, they must comment on trans misogyny and racism within the community, as well as speak about the legality of it; and let’s not forget the toilet debate and trans people in sports. It’s impossible. A cis white man can make a play that’s about one specific facet of society or a particular story, however I feel trans people often have to cover all bases and if they don’t, they are critiqued for it, often from within the community as well.
It’s not that I’m specifically avoiding any particular box, but I’m not aiming to touch on all trans issues within my show. It’s impossible. I'm trying to abandon the pressure to make work that is a solution to something.
I’m making a show I would want to see as a trans person. I want it to be entertaining first and foremost, I hope it has surprises in it, and I believe it speaks on representation and the white trans masc experience being from a small town. Sure, other subjects are touched on, but I’m just trying to defy the expectation that I have to justify trans people’s right to exist in my work. We do exist. This is the story of a murderer who happens to be trans, not a trans murderer.
The show asks a lot of you as a performer, physically and emotionally, every day for a month. How do you plan to look after yourself during a long Fringe run? And what does your pre and post show routine look like?
I love a routine. I religiously work out in the morning and walk a lot. I’m excited that I have a 3.20pm show, as it means I have time to do my morning routine, do a bit of flyering and then have a bit of space post show. My amazing sound designer, Fizz, has set me up with a ‘don’t go mad’ track at the end of the show for me to listen to during the get out to help me shake off the character a bit. He’s intense and manic, and also fairly similar to me in many ways, so it’s sometimes a little too easy to absorb his energy.
I’m going to make sure I eat my vegetables and annoy at least one of my friends every day.
And hey, it’s such a privilege to be going to the fringe, I plan on soaking up as much as I can while avoiding total exhaustion.
And finally, what would you say to someone who's curious about the show but nervous about the title?
Come and see it. If you feel nervous to come solely because of the title, why is that? Are you worried because you are afraid of what your attendance might infer to others? Do you worry you slightly agree? Do you feel reactive about it for a particular reason?
I think follow your curiosity. Worst case scenario - you don’t like the show and you can do a post on Instagram about how you were right to have a weird feeling about going.
But I promise it isn’t transphobic if you come along, as much as it also isn’t saying you love trans people if you come. Maybe it’ll get you thinking about transness a bit, maybe it’ll make you laugh at something unexpected.
But at the end of the day, it’s just a show made by a silly boy who decided to make something with a dangerous title.
Trans People Are Awful will be performed at 3:20pm at Pleasance Courtyard from 5th – 31st August.
Booking link: https://www.pleasance.co.uk/event/trans-people-are-awful



