Slugs – pretty meh, right? Maybe they’re an annoyance if you’re lucky enough to have a patio, but who can afford that in this economy? Anyway, they should provide a suitable opening for a show by comedy act The Creepy Boys that’s trying, often desperately, to be about nothing.
Over the next hour the pair would fight themselves, each other, or even the audience – sometimes savagely – to uphold their pledge. The result is (despite the various details listed in the blurb) a careening ride through territory that’s sometimes sobering or provocative, and maybe that’s why the show’s lurches into comedy often land with such exhilarating force.
The Creepy Boys are Canadian-based “real-life lovers” S.E. Grummett (Saskatchewan) and Sam Kruger (American, recent immigrant). Slugs was a “Best Show” nominee at the 2025 Edinburgh Comedy Awards. Given the sheer volume of shows on offer at this Fringe, maybe this nod helped their second performance of the show in Melbourne attract a good crowd, despite the latish slot. There’s also appeal in the fringe blurb, including the act’s commitment to “…proudly make joyful, deliciously funny, big-hearted, queer comedy and theatre for the intrigued.”
The pair have particular roles, Grummett being an optimistic, freewheeling originator of ideas, whereas Kruger could tend to aggressively shut down anything that might cause the show to diverge from intended nothingness. A “thing” could cause trouble, for a performer or audience. That’s why Kruger insists that Grummett’s gender identity must stay out of the show; we know what trouble that could cause, even if they need something as basic as a toilet.
A “thing” could also be unsettling. When Kruger mentions “genocide”, it’s not theoretical, or even something that happened decades ago. But as the smile still on your lips from the show’s last manic segment falls at the thought, tension is broken by some new unpredictable event. We’re being manipulated, sure, but at least it’s by performers who ensure we’re still (mostly) experiencing a comedy show, albeit a prickly one at times.
Much of the comedy arises from the duo’s attempts to do something sufficiently anodyne as to avoid any strong reaction in the audience. As you might guess, they struggle with this. Largely this is because they just can’t help steering us in some oddball direction, whether they’re trying to give us basic “four-chord pop music”, or puppetry, or more adult entertainment. (It’s an 18+ show.)
A driving soundtrack (some co-written with Shirley Gnome, who also had a cheeky/nasty video cameo) assisted the manic or eccentric mood of some scenes, but it was a touch loud at times. This caused me to miss a decent amount of banter between our performers, which, judging from the effect of what I could hear, feels unfortunate.
That was the only technical matter in a show that immerses us in novel ideas through outstanding coordination between the performers and their tech. As the story evolves and we gain a deeper appreciation for the goal of nothingness, and Kruger allows himself some vulnerability, we also see that he and Grummett are quite a sweet couple. Images on a video screen near the end, allowing us a better view of performer makeup, when added to the interactions and costuming we’ve already noted, solidify a sense of a yin-yang relationship here.
The result of such layered details, or vibrantly coloured, fanciful, bizarre, or tender episodes, certainly distinguish the show from one about some trivial matter, like the result of bringing your own condiment to a diner. The Creepy Boys can’t even manage to make slugs dull, giving us the most memorable use of sleeping bags (see the promo image) since Lano & Woodley’s My Blue Heaven routine. Instead, Slugs is a radiant experience that will surely cause fellow fringe goblins to gleefully exclaim “This is why I fringe”.
SLUGS
Festival Hub: Meat Market – The Stables, 36 – 54 Courtney Street, North Melbourne
Performance: Friday 2 October 2026 (9:15pm)
Season continues to 17 October 2026
Information and Bookings: www.melbournefringe.com.au
Image: S.E. Grummett and Sam Kruger – photo by Mat Simpson
Review: Jason Whyte