Blood, Desire, and Bodily Autonomy: SUCCUBUS at Edinburgh Fringe 2026

The Essentials

1. 1

   Georgina Collins reclaims bodily autonomy in this dark horror comedy by turning medical gaslighting into bloodshed.
2. 2

   The show subverts ancient succubus folklore, transforming an ethereal dream parasite into a visceral predator.
3. 3

   With razor-sharp satire and staged gore, this debut production offers a messy, cathartic dismantling of patriarchy.

Award-winning burlesque performer Georgina Collins brings her debut solo production, SUCCUBUS, to the Dexter studio at Underbelly Bristo Square for the Edinburgh Festival Fringe 2026. Directed by Grainne Robson and produced by Halfway Productions, the 45-minute dark horror comedy tackles medical misogyny, institutional neglect, and predatory male behaviour through an unrepentantly bloody lens.

The show opens on an anxious protagonist turning 25, only to find severe physical transformations and distress repeatedly brushed aside by medical professionals as trivial hormonal shifts. When her evolving body manifests an insatiable craving for human meat, she reclaims her agency by establishing a moral hunting code: preying exclusively on predatory men in shadowy alleyways.

Occult Lore: Ethereal Parasite vs Visceral Carnivore

In traditional demonology and occult philosophy, the succubus—derived from the Latin succubare, meaning “to lie beneath”—operates primarily within the subtle, astral plane. Classical grimoires and medieval treatises like the Malleus Maleficarum describe the succubus not as a flesh-eating beast, but as an incorporeal psychic parasite. She enters the dreams of the sleeping, draining vital energy, life force (prana or chi), and spiritual potency while leaving the victim physically intact yet chronically depleted. Rooted in ancient archetypes from the Mesopotamian Lilitu to the Hebrew Lilith, the occult succubus represents subconscious taboos, unbridled desire, and psychological entrapment.

SUCCUBUS subverts this classical ethereal tradition by grounding the demon directly in the visceral, biological realm. Rather than feeding quietly on sleeping astral projections, Collins’ protagonist undergoes a tangible physical mutation. Her appetite demands raw, solid muscle and bone rather than subtle life energy, transforming the nocturnal whisperer into an active, daytime apex predator. By dragging the mythical demoness out of the dream state and into visceral reality, the production turns centuries of seductive folklore into an immediate weapon of physical retribution.

Solo Precision and Dark Satire

Collins commands the stage alone, relying on razor-sharp comedic timing to interact with a complex soundscape of pre-recorded, disembodied male voices. The technical choreography is spotless; every line delivery, pause, and violent retaliation aligns flawlessly with unseen dialogue.

Beneath the stage gore and cult-horror tropes sits a fierce commentary on how modern society polices women’s pain. The satire bites because the predatory behaviour of her targets remains instantly recognisable even in the face of grotesque danger. Front-row audience members should heed the splash warnings: dismantling the patriarchy in a tight studio theatre is a messy, visceral affair.