What does it mean to belong in a country you’ve lived in for decades, paid taxes in, built a life in—yet are still seen as an outsider in? What happens when you’re told to “go home” but ‘home’ no longer exists for you—or doesn’t want you either?
These are the thorny, timely questions at the heart of Bad Immigrant, a funny, fierce and unexpectedly moving new solo show by choreographer and performer Jennifer Irons, which previewed this weekend at Brighton’s South East Dance Space ahead of its Edinburgh Festival run in August 2025.
Sussex-based Irons, who was born in Canada but has lived in the UK for 25 years, found herself told to “go home” by a neighbour in the wake of Brexit. It was a throwaway comment, but one that ignited a fire under this show. With painful humour and searing self-awareness, Irons uses that moment to launch a deep, surprisingly joyful exploration of migration, bureaucracy, national identity and the exhausting quest to belong.
The twist? Canada doesn’t want her either. She’s been away too long and she’s too old, too broke and, crucially, not nearly sporty enough to qualify under current immigration rules. The show starts (seemingly improbably) with a jump back into time to the 1988 Calgary Winter Olympics. It then becomes clear that entering the country of her birth – for others seeking a new life, the only visa available is the kind reserved for elite athletes.
And so begins her unexpected mid-life quest: to reinvent herself as a professional roller skater, inspired by her childhood hero, figure skater Elizabeth Manley. From this absurd but heartwarming premise, Irons constructs a show that combines physical comedy, dance, projection mapping, storytelling, and a bit of German techno into an hour of high-energy, high-concept performance.
What makes Bad Immigrant compelling is the tenacity of its performer. Irons, now in her late 40s, has genuinely taken up roller skating as part of her research and performance — risking (and sustaining) bone breakages, bruises and (as she jokes) the loss of dignity, to embody the absurd lengths one might go to for a sense of legitimacy or acceptance. She skates, spins, falls, gets back up, sings, and jokes her way through a complex narrative of exclusion and hope. It must be utterly exhausting to perform. And yet she makes it look (mostly) effortless. Protective sports gear also helps with this.
The show is a mix of styles and tones—part roller disco, part TED Talk, part stand-up, part performance art. The performer moves the audience between autobiographical anecdotes and larger political questions with some group participation required. Along the way, Irons invites us to laugh at the ludicrousness of border policy and visa criteria. One particularly memorable moment highlights just how few countries she would now qualify to live in, based on her age, skills and income—an indictment of the system, served with a comic wink and a bright pink Lycra skate leotard.
The multimedia elements—creative captioning, projection mapping, and dance sequences—add depth and texture to the story without overwhelming it, as well as allowing this solo performer short pauses to breathe. The use of props is witty and purposeful (a three-dimensional salmon costume gets a big laugh), and the subtitled text cleverly supports accessibility while adding another layer of comic timing (including some rude words). Irons is an experienced choreographer and knows how to hold a room. She utilises every inch of the stage—sometimes whirling across it, sometimes collapsed on it to make her point.
Photo credit – Rosie Powell
There are moments when the show risks veering into lecturing, and it’s true that some of the political messaging felt geared toward the already-converted. This was, after all, a Brighton preview with a predominantly left-leaning audience, many of whom could be seen nodding along in agreement. But this is a minor quibble. What Irons is doing here is more than just tub thumping—she’s making a spectacle of the absurd hoops people are expected to jump through (or skate through) just to live their lives peacefully, with humour, heart, and some menopausal gallows wit.
What also stands out is the show’s inclusivity—not just in its themes, but in its energy. Irons draws attention to the borderless, mixed, intergenerational community she finds within her newly adopted roller skating culture—a space where identities are fluid, where difference is celebrated rather than policed. It’s a beautiful counterpoint to the rigidity of immigration systems and the narrow definitions of value placed on people by states. As Irons says: “If I’m still a stranger after 25 years, what does it take to be a friend?” It’s a question that still hangs in the air after the lights come up, and one that cuts through even the biggest laughs.
Irons is no stranger to spectacle. Her past credits include mass movement choreography for over a thousand dancers, a hit single with Olly Murs, and even an attempt to teach disgraced former prime minister Boris Johnson to dance for the 2012 Olympics. But this theatre show Bad Immigrant feels like a passion project. It is intimate, personal, and arguably more ambitious in its own way. It’s not easy to sustain an hour of solo performance on skates, especially when it’s emotional and autobiographical. But Irons does it with a blend of grace, grit and sheer nerve.
Bad Immigrant is a wild, haphazard and moving ride. It is simultaneously thought-provoking, sharply funny, tender, and original. Political with a small p. It challenges the viewer to think harder about what ‘belonging’ and inclusiveness really mean, and it does so with sparkle, sweat and skates. She’s also currently scheming a Roller Dance Academy called the House of Irons.
Wishing Jennifer Irons every success at the Edinburgh Fringe and on her UK tour. She’s earned every ovation—on wheels or off.
Bad Immigrant is directed by Tom Roden of multiple award winners New Art Club. Music is by Stewart Baxter of the band Life, whose debut was awarded Album Of The Year on BBC Radio 6.
It was made as part of Rapport Residency with Dance Makers Collective Sydney and South East Dance. Part-commissioned by Worthing Theatres, supported by Brighton Dome, Crying Out Loud, Skates4Mates and ACE. It is nominated for the European Creativity for Social Change Award 2025.
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