Trouble, Struggle, Bubble and Squeak ★★★

Some Fringe shows promise observational comedy. Others tease a bit of history. Rarely does one manage to merge 17th-century radicals, Brighton council politics, cheese smuggling, community gardens, and a scaffolder’s saucy love letter into one sitting. Yet that’s exactly what Trouble, Struggle, Bubble and Squeak delivers: a sprawling but carefully woven chronicle of how the past collides with the present, told with intelligence and warmth by the show’s sole performer, Victoria Melody.

An anthropologist-comedian, Melody has a knack for embedding herself in Britain’s more eccentric subcultures — be they pigeon fanciers, beauty queens, or, in this case, Civil War reenactors. What begins as a whimsical bid to distract herself from divorce by donning a musketeer’s woollen uniform quickly snowballs into a full-blown exploration of activism, community resilience, and the surprising modern relevance of the 17th-century Diggers.

The show’s narrative backbone is straightforward enough: a tale of joining the wrong regiment, bumbling through musketeer drills, and finding unexpected solidarity with contemporary ‘diggers’ in Whitehawk, a Brighton council estate. The parallels between those who once fought for common land and modern residents fighting for green spaces, youth clubs, and food security are thought-provoking and deftly handled.

Highlights, in this Mark Thomas-directed effort, include the absurd image of thousands of pounds’ worth of mozzarella being distributed from a van like contraband, the immortalised “Whitehawk Soldier Beetle” thwarting developers, and the deadpan recounting of how an entire council inspection team ended up chopping carrots for a 17th-century stew. Each anecdote adds colour and momentum, building toward the climactic “re-enactment” staged on Whitehawk Hill, where locals and hobbyists alike take ownership of the script.

What makes it work is Melody’s delivery. There’s no sneering at communities or hobbyists; instead, the humour arises from self-deprecation and “excruciating yet relatable human error”. The performer’s ability to laugh at herself while celebrating others gives the material sincerity and heart.

And yet, while the intelligence of the concept is undeniable, the laughs are less consistent. The piece works better as a smart, socially aware storytelling hour than as a belly-laugh comedy set. The weighty themes sometimes crowd out the humour, and the pace, while deliberate, occasionally feels more like a lecture than a Fringe romp. Melody frequently pauses after a gag, waiting for audience laughs, which sometimes don’t arrive.

By the end, Trouble, Struggle, Bubble and Squeak emerges as a thoughtful testament to community and collective action.