Do Zombies Dream of Undead Sheep? – Edinburgh Festival Fringe

Do Zombies Dream of Undead Sheep? continues at Playground 1 at ZOO Playground until 24 August 2025.

Star Rating. three stars ★ ★ ★ ✩ ✩

A blank screen. The Woodlouse appears. The Woodlouse is actually John Butler, writer, songsmith and animator from Dorset. He has a gentle, awkward air, as if he’s not sure whether he should be there or not. Instructions appear on the screen forewarning the crowd that audience participation is obligatory.

After running the audience through the chorus they are expected to sing during the show, the music backing track begins, and to a background of self-drawn animations, Butler (occasionally wielding a ukulele) launches into the first of many songs which tell the curious story of the zombies.

And a bizarre story it is. There is an earthquake which releases all the undead, who immediately set off looking for sustenance. This is immediately revealed in a catchy little number which captures the full horror: “I went round the corner and what did I see? My grandma eat my uncle’s brains then head toward me.”

Thereafter, there follow the efforts of the authorities to deal with the zombie invasion until some 40 minutes later, we reach the final solution.

It’s not all horror; it’s too good-natured for that. There’s The Woodlouse’s love interest, which takes the form of a full-size cardboard puppet hoisted onto what looks like a coat rack.

The songs are catchy, often movingly beautiful, the backing music effectively arranged. Butler’s voice has an endearing yearning quality.

There are underlying contemporary parallels to the zombie story, but lightly drawn: an animated Boris Johnson utters gobbledegook, a meeting of what appear to be government ministers discuss how to deal with the zombie invasion. And through it all, the Woodlouse sings in a plea for inclusivity and love. And he gives us plenty of that.

This is a labour of love, and although Butler perhaps could have done with a director (there are a couple of times during instrumental sections when he appears not quite sure what to do) there’s such an innocent, almost naive, feeling to the whole thing that the audience is charmed. And there’s an infectious singalong chorus which will stay in your head for days.

You’ll be hard put to find anything quite like this on the Fringe. It’s shows like this that the festival was set up for. Bizarre, endearing, warm, charming.

James Bryce