I made my Fringe debut as an extra cow in a show at the Bedlam Theatre - here's what happened

Our arts correspondent Jane Bradley has thrown herself into the Fringe - hooves first

It was a couple of months before the Edinburgh Festival Fringe when I spotted a Facebook post from an American theatre director called Aaron Francis.

“Los Angeles-based show coming to Edinburgh,” it said. “There are nine cows in the show and we’re only bringing two with us (the only ones that have lines). So I need seven actresses to play cows for each show. No rehearsals. Blocking will be explained half an hour before show time.”

Who could resist that? The chance to make my Fringe acting debut, with no time commitment - but also no idea what the show was about? Perfect. I emailed Francis and we agreed I’d take part in the opening night of Betsy and Patty Find Out.

The day before the show, he contacted me again, suggesting all of us cows take part in a “cow parade” before the show, a costumed flyering experience.

I turned up at the Bedlam Theatre to be presented with a cow costume and a pair of black socks to for my hands - to create hooves. There were a handful of other nervous cow recruits standing around.

“Your cow needs to have a personality,” Francis explained. “Whatever you like. You just need to react to standing in line - and what Betsy and Patty are saying, if you like.”

Arts correspondent Jane Bradley (first left) in Betsy and Patty Find Outplaceholder image
Arts correspondent Jane Bradley (first left) in Betsy and Patty Find Out | the scotsman

I should explain. Betsy and Patty are the main character cows around whom the entire play is centred. Standing in line waiting to be slaughtered, they begin a wide ranging conversation in which both shy and conservative Patty and revolutionary Betsy, talk, disagree and eventually become friends. The other cows, however, are sent off for slaughter one by one. I was the final cow in line, so spent longest on stage and was even caught in a headlock by Betsy.

Jane Bradley, left, with other cows in Betty and Patty Find Outplaceholder image
Jane Bradley, left, with other cows in Betty and Patty Find Out | Scotsman

We set off on our cow parade, traipsing around the Grassmarket and Meadows, mooing and handing out flyers, before returning to the Bedlam.

The other “volunteer cows” were mainly American crew working on other shows around the Fringe, who had also spotted Francis’ message and had been intrigued. One, however, had got roped in by her flatmate who had signed up to volunteer, only to find out she had to do something else at that time. Another had squeezed in the performance before a date, dashing off the second her cow was slaughtered.

Aura Wells, from the US, who is here working on another show, said she had signed up the same way I did.

“I saw a post on Facebook asking for extra cows,” she says. “I thought I would help out another performance group and be a cow, why not?”

Jen DeRosmith, who plays Betsy, tells me she is excited to recruit new cows in Edinburgh. The play’s producers did the same thing when it was performed at the Hollywood Fringe.

“I’m so excited to share this with other humans, “ she says. “I think our extra cows who show up for our show - they’re different people every show - they get to have good fun. We tell them, ‘have an opinion, you can hear what we’re saying’.”

Waiting on stage for the house to open, I ask Patty if many tickets have been sold, The Bedlam is a 90-capacity theatre, pretty big as Fringe venues go.

“Oh yes, a lot,” she says. She is right. When the doors open, dozens of people troop in. I’m starting to feel nervous, but try to stay in character. The personality I have chosen for my cow is bored, impatient, eye rolling.

Betsy and Patty begin their lines and the show flies by. I am nervous I’ll miss my “next” cue and accidentally stay on stage on my own like I did in a ballet show when I was three, but thankfully, it is clear. The Scotsman’s videographer, watching from the audience, tells me I acted my heart out.

I wonder briefly if I over-hammed it, with no concept of what the other cows did, but decide I don’t care. It was so fun. I tell Francis I might go back another night, if he’ll have me.

Betty and Pattyplaceholder image
Betty and Patty | Scotsman

In the bar/dressing room of the Bedlam after the show, back in normal clothes, I immediately ran into someone I know, another arts journalist.

“Were you...here for the cow show?” I ask him. “Oh yes,” he replied, with a smirk. Oh dear.

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