Come Flyer With Me: Tara Flynn

My husband is American. He’s smiley and likes people. He is enthusiastic about me and my work (most days). When he first came to the Fringe, he believed himself my ideal flyering candidate. But 30 minutes on the Royal Mile soon sorted him out. As he trembled on our over-priced rental sofa, sipping hot, sweet tea for the shock, I think the words he gulped out, between sobs, were “Why are humans so awful?”

Fringe goers quickly grow weary of hopeful faces brandishing bits of paper. Often, you don’t even get to hand over that thing with your face on it, alongside last year’s glowing reviews. People don’t care if you glowed or not. They wish you were on fire. My solution? My cocker spaniel. He’s my fluffy buffer. I take his waggy ginger butt out around the streets and if someone “Aw”’s him, they’re screwed: they’re leaving with my face in their hands. The same people who’d punch you in the stomach – with their eyes – for coming within 20 feet of them with a flyer suddenly can’t take them off you fast enough. Don’t let the lolling tongue fool you: this dog’s a lethal weapon. “Aw” is right. Shock and “aw”.

Rock to the sounds of Tara Flynn's Big Noise at The Voodoo Rooms at 5.05pm every day as part of the PBH Free Fringe.