Waller-Bridge - Fleabag

Phoebe Waller-Bridge

FLEABAG

NICK HERN BOOKS

London

www.nickhernbooks.co.uk

Contents

Fleabag was first performed at Underbelly on 1 August 2013 as part of the Edinburgh Festival Fringe. It transferred to Soho Theatre, London, on 3 September 2013 and was revived there on 7 May 2014. The cast was as follows:

To Vicky Jones

Note on Text

Other characters can be recorded voices, played by other actors or played by Fleabag.

Pauses and beats are indicated by the space given between lines.

Lights come up on FLEABAG.

She is out of breath and sweating.

FEMALE VOICE. Hes ready to see you now.

FLEABAG. Thank you.

FLEABAG attempts to hide that she is overheating.

MALE VOICE. Thanks for coming in today. Really appreciate you sending in your CV.

FLEABAG. No problem.

MALE VOICE. It was funny!

FLEABAG. Oh? Okay. That wasnt my intention, but

MALE VOICE. Great. Our current situation is unusual in that we dont have many any women working here. Mainly due to the

FLEABAG. Sexual-harassment case.

MALE VOICE. Sexual-harassment case, yes. Are you alright?

FLEABAG. Yes, sorry I ran from the station. Just a bit hot. Sorry. Im really excited about

MALE VOICE. Water?

FLEABAG. No, Im Ill be okay actually, yes please, that would be great.

Over the next speech, FLEABAG pulls her jumper halfway over her head exposing her bra. She realises she doesnt have a top on underneath and she attempts to pulls her jumper back down as if nothing had happened.

MALE VOICE. So we are looking for someone who can handle themselves in a competitive environment. It will mainly be filing, but we have some pretty good filers so Haha yeah. It also involves updating the website and throwing up an occasional twit. It says here that you have done something similar before at the caf that you used to

Ah okay. Um.

Im sorry. That wont get you very far here any more.

FLEABAG. Oh no sorry I thought I had a top on underneath.

MALE VOICE. Yup. Okay. But for the record.

FLEABAG. No seriously. In this case genuine accident.

MALE VOICE. Look. With our history here I understand why you might have thought

FLEABAG. I wasnt trying to Jesus I was hot

MALE VOICE. I take this kind of thing very seriously now.

FLEABAG. Im not trying to shag you! Look at yourself.

MALE VOICE. Okay. Please leave.

FLEABAG. What!? But I you dont understand. I need

MALE VOICE. Please just leave.

FLEABAG starts to leave. She turns back.

FLEABAG. Perv.

MALE VOICE. Slut.

FLEABAG. Wow.

MALE VOICE. Please leave.

FLEABAG. You please leave.

MALE VOICE. Its my office.

FLEABAG. Yeah?

MALE VOICE. Okay.

Sound effect of feet walking away and a door opening.

FLEABAG. Wait.

Footsteps stop.

FLEABAG turns to the audience.

Three nights ago I ordered myself a very slutty pizza.

I mean, the bitch was dripping.

That dirty little stuffed-crust wanted to be in me so bad, I just ate the little tart like she meant nothing to me, and she loved it.

That pretty much nailed that, and it was pretty late by now, so I dragged myself upstairs and got into my office or my bed and tried to work on the figures for the caf. I run a guinea-pig-themed caf. But its out of cash and its going to close unless a cheque falls out of the sky, or a banker comes on my arse, but neither are going to happen, and I dont want to dignify the banker-man with a proper mention so Im not going to talk about him or how I do sometimes wish I could own up to not having morals and just let him come on my arse for ten thousand pounds, but apparently were not supposed to do that, so okay. I wont. Even though it would solve everything. I wont.

Even though I could.

Lying in my office, the caf numbers start to jump out at me like little ninjas, so I rationalise it would be good to just switch off for a bit. Improve my mind. So I watched a pretty good movie, actually, called 17 Again with Zac Efron who is fit.

I know.

But seriously, hes actually a a really good actor. So Yeah, but the film could have been worse honestly. Check it out.

Then that finished. So I lay there. Thinking. Caf. Numbers. Numbers. Zac. Numbers.

Googled Obama to keep up with yknow. Who, as it turns out, is also attractive.

Lay there. Numbers, numbers, Obama, numbers, Zac, Obama, numbers, Zac

Suddenly I was on YouPorn having a horrible wank.

Found just the right sort of gangbang.

Now that really knocked me out, so I put my computer away, leaned over, kissed my boyfriend Harry goodnight and went to sleep.

I wake in the morning to find a note from Harry saying

That was the last straw.

Which is pretty out of the blue if Im honest. Didnt know he was counting straws. But nice to know he was paying attention. All his stuff was gone. And everything in the fridge. I was a bit thrilled by his selfishness. Suddenly fancied him again. But relieved one of us did something he used to say things to me like

HARRY. Youre not like other girls you can keep up.

FLEABAG (ponderous). Keep up.

I stood staring at a handprint on my wall from when I had a threesome on my period. Harry and I break up every twelve to eighteen months and when we do, well

I wish I could tell you my threesome story was sticky and awkward and everyone went home a little bit sad and empty, but it was lovely.

Sorry.

I admire how much Harry commits to our break-ups. The fridge is a new detail, but he does always go the extra mile. A few times hes even cleaned the whole flat. Like its a crime scene. Ive often considered timing a break-up around whenever the flat needs a bit of a going-over, but I never know whats going to set him off. Keeps me on my toes.

I sit on the loo and think about all the people I can have sex with now.

Im not obsessed with sex.

I just cant stop thinking about it.

The performance of it. The awkwardness of it. The drama of it. The moment you realise someone wants your body not so much the feeling of it.

Ive probably got about a week before Harry comes back. I should get on it.

Okay.

Into the shower. Boom. Bedroom. Make-up. Boom. Gonna really make an effort. I take half an hour trying to look nice and I end up looking