Rebecca Drysdale tells us at the end that this show is about the last two years of her life. Judging by its contents - a satirical take on her own Bat Mitzvah, a skit in which a space traveller ends up stuck in Ancient Rome arguing with her boyfriend on their spaceship, a hapless assault victim fighting back with origami and a song asking “When we can make fun of 9/11?” - her head must be quite some place to live. And while I can’t say that there is much logic or a complete absence of pretentiousness to what this grey-suited metropolitan American puts before us, the way her fierce and sophisticated intelligence and wit fizzes like a Catherine wheel is nothing if not exciting.
Particularly good was her Hillaire Belloc-style poem about butch lesbians or sharp rejoinders like “You just laughed at Nazis in front of a gay Jew”.
Less good was the naked shower scene at the end and a laboured coda berating her bad reviews and sex life and playing Scotland the Brave on guitar.
Despite her protestations, I didn’t feel we knew her much better by the end. But it was great fun while it lasted.