TWO YEARS OF CHAOTIC COMEDY AND COMMUNITY MAGIC
Two years ago, Glenys Marshall and Maggie May Harder found themselves dreaming about a comedy show that could be anything and everything they wanted. A place where the wildest, weirdest ideas were not only welcomed but celebrated. That dream became Small Fish, a variety show that’s carved out a joyful, inclusive niche in Ottawa’s comedy scene. And on February 26th, they threw a two-year anniversary bash that was, in a word, unforgettable.
The evening at Irene’s Pub began not with a bang but with a song—one that quickly unraveled into a hilarious and slightly chaotic singalong, setting the tone for what would be a night of joyful unpredictability. The crowd had barely settled before they were greeted with a confusing riddle that had everyone squinting at each other, unsure whether to laugh or solve it. (Spoiler: it was both.)
Maggie took the mic early in the night for a stand-up set that blended sharp observations with their trademark storytelling style. It was personal and punchy, with a rhythm that pulled the audience in like an old friend recounting an especially ridiculous day. Their set was a reminder of the duo’s comedic roots—Maggie started out in improv and stand-up before teaming up with Glenys—and how far they’ve come since those early open mic nights.
One of the show’s highlights was a surprise guest performance by Eliza Mia, who delivered three beautifully haunting songs. Her voice filled the space, offering a brief but impactful moment of calm in a show otherwise dedicated to gleeful absurdity. The magic didn’t last long, though—because what followed was a song parody no one saw coming: 127 Hours retold in the style of Dolly Parton’s “9 to 5.” The sight of Glenys and Maggie harmonizing about “cutting loose” took on a whole new meaning, and the crowd loved every ridiculous second of it.
After intermission (complete with a bubble machine manned by a very serious volunteer), Maggie returned to the stage in full costume as “Tumeric the Nonbinary Mouse”. The skit, which somehow managed to be both educational and hilariously off-the-wall, featured Tumeric navigating their first day at a new job while dealing with questions like, “What even is turmeric?” It was peak Small Fish—silly, strange, and unexpectedly wholesome.
Not to be outdone, Glenys took the audience to “French class,” teaching the crowd in what can only be described as the most energetic Grade 3 lesson ever given. And then there was Jelly, whose drag skit closed the night with a bang. Channeling chaotic energy and razor-sharp comedic timing, Jelly had the crowd howling. It was an electric performance that summed up everything Small Fish stands for: community, creativity, and giving performers space to be unapologetically themselves.
My interview with Glenys and Maggie reflected on how far they’ve come since launching Small Fish. “When our first show sold out a week before it happened, we knew we were onto something,” Glenys said. “We were craving a space where we could just have fun and get weird, and apparently, so was everyone else.”
Maggie added, “Our comedy is lighthearted and strange—the kind that makes you laugh and then go, ‘Wait, what just happened?’ We’re always trying to make each other giggle first and foremost. That’s our north star.”
Creating Small Fish wasn’t just about laughs, though. The duo emphasizes building safer spaces in Ottawa’s comedy scene, where marginalized communities are prioritized. “We can’t make a perfect space,” Maggie said, “but we can make it safer. And we keep learning how to do that better, thanks to our community.”
As for what’s next, Glenys and Maggie have big dreams. “We’d love to tour more, teach more,” Glenys shared. “Our Ottawa dream is to perform at the NAC. And one day, we’ll have our own CBC show.”
And if you ask them who they’d most want to collaborate with, the answers are just as heartfelt. For Maggie, it’s Jenny Slate. “Her delivery is like listening to an old friend talk in the kitchen,” they said. Glenys’ pick is Gilda Radner. “She’s the best. And we have the same hair, so that’s fun!”
As the two-year anniversary show wrapped up, the energy in the room was undeniable. People stayed long after the last act, chatting and laughing, buzzing from the sense of connection Small Fish fosters so well. It’s more than a comedy show—it’s a community. And it’s clear that Glenys and Maggie are just getting started.
