Michelle Brasier is no stranger to storytelling that balances razor-sharp humour with gut-punching sincerity. The Australian comedian, writer, and singer returns to the Edinburgh Fringe this August with It’s A Shame We Won’t Be Friends Next Year—a show rooted in a throwaway childhood comment that quietly shaped her identity for decades. Known for her sell-out solo work and collaborations with Aunty Donna and Koala Man, Brasier brings a poignant, hilarious meditation on rejection, self-perception, and the healing power of hard conversations. We caught up with Michelle Brasier to unpack the emotional weight of seemingly trivial moments and the grace that follows honest confrontation.
The title of your new show is delightfully savage. At what point did that Year 6 comment turn into a comedy show concept?
Delightfully savage! Oh, I love that! About three whiskys deep, two Edinburgh fringes ago! A bunch of us sat around bitching about reviews and how they stay with us and I brought up this childhood interaction where my friend had said ‘it’s a shame we won’t be friends next year’, I replied ‘but we are going to the same high school’ and he said ‘yeah I just don’t think people are going to like you in high school’ and as soon as I shared that story, everybody had their own version of it. Everybody has an Andy Holmes from school you know?
You actually tracked down the classmate who made that comment. Was it cathartic, awkward – or oddly wholesome?
It was incredibly wholesome which made the show so much easier to write! I felt awkward approaching him. I haven’t seen him in 14 years. He recently followed me on Instagram. That was more awkward because I am in show promo mode posting about what he said to me all the time.
Your work often blends comedy with real emotional excavation. How do you balance raw vulnerability with big laughs onstage?
It’s all about tension. Building it with some vulnerability and then breaking it with humour. All the best stories work that way. I think our funniest moments are when we aren’t worried about being cringe and we just open up to each other honestly.
You also reached out to a past critic. Why open that door – and what did that conversation teach you about grace and growth?
I opened that door because she hurt my feelings and I wanted to stop thinking about it. I think I knew it would be interesting to talk about in the show but I didn’t realise how lovely she would be. She’s really cool. I would like to be friends with her if artists and critics weren’t such natural enemies.
From ‘Average Bear’ to this new show, your storytelling feels more like emotional stand-up therapy. Is that intentional?
Yeeeeeah, look. I just want to do ted talks but I’m a goof so here we are! I would be a philosopher if I had better breeding. I think the best storytelling should always make you feel something. But it’s not supposed to be therapy for me, it’s for the audience. It should be cathartic for them not for the person on stage. I think if the audience is too worried about you being ok, they are robbed of their own emotional experience you know? I don’t want to see someone crying at the 45-minute mark. Like unless it’s really needed, it’s a bit uncomfortable for me to watch. It feels a bit indulgent. Although I do love to indulge so who am I to judge really.
You’ve toured NYC, LA, London – what’s something UK audiences bring that’s different from your home crowd in Australia?
UK audiences are some of my favourites! Especially in Edinburgh. Americans are probably the loudest, but I’ve noticed in the UK you guys love a standing ovation which I adore. It’s something Australia does but not like as gracefully as you guys. Theatre is in your bones even though people act like the Brits are emotionally repressed, keep calm and carry on etc. I don’t think that’s true at all.
You’ve written for VICE and The Guardian, and soon you’re publishing a memoir. How does writing differ when it’s for the page, not the stage?
Oh, it’s so hard to make things clear without the tone of your own voice or your face. It really means you have to focus on the words which I love. I love words. Writing the book was such a beautiful experience for me and the reaction back home in Aus has been so wild. I feel really lucky to have the opportunity to tell stories in different ways. Screenwriting, writing for stage, there are so many elements but on the page, you have to take into account another person’s mind. And that’s so wonderful and also so annoying and hard!
The show invites people to reflect on how small moments shape who we become. What’s one moment you’d tell your younger self not to carry so heavily?
The one in the show probably! Although then maybe I wouldn’t be where I am. I’d love to go back in time and show my younger self that I am on TV now so that I wouldn’t cry about not getting the lead in Les Mis in 2005.
xxx
Michelle Brasier: It’s A Shame We Won’t Be Friends Next Year will be performed at 7.30pm in Gilded Balloon at the Museum from 30th July – 24th August (not 13th)
For tickets and more information, visit https://tickets.gildedballoon.co.uk/event/14:5582/