Edinburgh Fringe comedy review

We’re all Jill, and we’re here with Jill at Jill’s Tupperware Party. You’re clear on that, yes? Coral Bevan’s show takes us into a surreal, slightly horrific world where Tupperware rules and we must sell as much of it as possible. This isn’t for haters of audience interaction, because you can’t escape taking part in this immersive convention. By the end of the hour, here’s hoping you’ll leave ‘tup-aware’, too.

‘Hi Jill, have you met Jill?’ says Bevan, as, well, Jill, the current reigning King Tup. With name badges stuck to us, we’re encouraged to shake hands, greet other audience members and call out in response to her register. Things, as expected, don’t quite go to plan. Next to Bevan is Ricky Hunt – also Jill, but one with significantly less selling expertise. Today, Bevan’s Jill is none too pleased when it comes out that someone else has unexpectedly overtaken her as top seller.

A sermon is given by the voice of the original Jill, who started everything we’re experiencing. Then things really kick into action. Hunt and Bevan have a unique knack for getting people on side. Never does their questioning veer into threatening territory; instead, we’re willing them along, eager to see where this bizarre sales pitch will take us.

It’s all weird and wonderful, with the show having the air of something sickly-sweet gone wrong. Boundlessly creative, highlights include the two Jills vacuum-sealing the room, encouraging a celebratory conga and casting one audience member as the shiny new King Tup. 

Costumed to the nines, with over-the-top blue eyeshadow, Bevan and Hunt distort into something more monstrous over the hour. ‘Try the eyeball,’ Bevan’s Jill says, her previously wigged hair now removed so she’s left in a bald cap. Blood drips gorily down her chin. Here, we’re made to follow the crowd and confront the power of herd mentality.

And so, we gleefully go along with the cannibalism, don our hair nets and take the goody bags to prove we’re officially part of the cult. It is camp, fun and just the right amount of shaming.

 It doesn’t have any particularly deep or meaningful message beneath the distorted party atmosphere and it feels more like an all-encompassing play than a straight comedy. But, it remains a proper Fringe hit.

Review date: 20 Aug 2026
Reviewed by: Anya Ryan
Reviewed at: Underbelly Cowgate