Fleabag: The Original Play

by Phoebe Waller-Bridge

People are amazing, but… when will people realise… that people are all we got?

I have a horrible feeling I’m a greedy, perverted, selfish, apathetic, cynical, depraved, mannish-looking, morally bankrupt woman who can’t even call herself a feminist.

BOO. And anyway, that’s the very reason they put rubbers on the ends of pencils. FLEABAG (to BOO). To fuck hamsters? BOO. No, because people make mistakes.

She snaps at me. Says I have to stop talking to people like I’m doing a stand-up routine. That some things just aren’t fucking funny.

What if I wrote that I fucked that café into liquidation, that I fucked up my family, I fucked my friend by fucking her boyfriend, that I don’t feel alive unless I’m being fucked and I don’t feel in control unless I’m fucking, because fucking makes the world tighten around me,

Either everyone feels like this a little bit and they’re just not talking about it, or I’m completely fucking alone. Which isn’t fucking funny.