Fleabag: The Special Edition

by Phoebe Waller-Bridge

The power of comedy is astonishing to me – how it can disarm an audience and leave them wide open and vulnerable. Ultimately, for the Fleabag audience, I wanted the drama of this woman’s story to leap into their open, laughing mouths and find its way deep into their hearts.

But you and I just saw her as we see each other… as someone we could easily become if we went down a slightly different road or had had our hearts broken in the way she did. She is desperately trying to convince the audience that she is fine and in control, but the truth is she lost her best friend and no longer has anyone who understands her in the world.

A particularly heart-warming moment during this process was at Soho Theatre, overhearing an older woman say to an usher after the show: ‘Please let her know she’s not alone.’

I masturbate about that all the time. I masturbate a lot these days. Especially when I’m bored or angry or upset or happy.

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.

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.