Jazz Jenkins (Billie), Miya Ocego (Flo / Tanya / Jade), Joanna Strafford (Maya / Heather / El)
‘A ladies’ bathroom is a magical place. It is a melting pot, an equal playing field and most importantly, a safe space, sacred and confessional by structure and nature’. April Hope Miller
In the Upstairs theatre at Pleasance Courtyard we are invited to enter the totally private, enclosed space of a Ladies Loo at a nightclub, in Shoreditch, London. No men allowed. The action takes place over the course of one night, as fourteen individual women come in and out, giggling teenagers, 20-30 somethings, office colleagues and a few clucking Hens.
Social engagement 2025-era is all about texting friends, scrolling Tinder, Plenty of Fish, Bumble, Instagram, Snapchat – sharing personal details on screen, and maybe, tentatively, meeting up in person. In gaggles of two and threes, the girls rush into the Ladies – Layla, Flo, Maya, Lara, et al. refreshing lipstick, adjusting their mini-mini-skirts, checking phones.
The chit-chat at first revolves around dating on line (profile – ‘plays golf, reads Emily Bronte, likes Eastern Jazz’). A Maid of Honour is desperately trying to keep Kate, the Bride, happy although someone has described her as a fat Claudia Winkleman. Fashion shaming galore, ‘She looks like a pig in a halter neck!’ Selfies are snapped leading to a serious question, ‘What plastic surgery would you have?’ Lip filler, eyebrows. Body image is of major concern as they peer incessantly at the mirror. Sound effects are perfectly timed whenever a girl is in a graffiti-decorated cubicle. Flush! Flush!
As five actors play fourteen characters, a speedy switch of costume creates a totally different persona, Tanya, Heather, Alex. While she’s not had too many vodka shots, El is sick (again) and Billie is on her own and seems to be hiding in the loo distressed and frightened. Friends and strangers gather round to help – this bathroom is an intimate place to share secrets and problems. A confessional for soul sisters.
The dramatic arc of the play is succinctly directed across a myriad of short scenarios, flowing from girly gossip and farcical anecdotes to deeply disturbing experiences. We laugh. We cry.
Virginia Woolf wrote her influential Feminist essay, ‘A Room of One's Own’ (1929) to highlight the difficulty for women to have the freedom to write; she realised the need for female voices to tell their own stories, write about controversial topics like sex. As Woolf says, “It is much more important to be oneself than anything else.’
Almost a century from Woolf’s words of wisdom, April Hope Miller has written a pin-sharp, smart, sassy play with humour and honesty - female voices telling their stories to express their intimate feelings, blossoming sexuality, desires and fears. Performed by the entire ensemble with such authentic emotion and truth, it would be invidious to select any single actor.
The narrative of Flush is akin to a 21st century version of the American TV series, ‘Sex and the City,’ 1999-2004, about Cosmo cocktail-sipping fashionistas in party mode. Move over Carrie Bradshaw, ‘Sex and the City’, 2025 style is on at the Festival Fringe.
Showtimes:
30th July – 25th August 2025 (not 11th, 18th), @ 12:15
Ticket prices: Weekday £13 (£12) Weekend £15 (£14)
Age guidance: 12+
This show contains strong language, depictions of drug use, and distressing or potentially triggering themes including sexual assault.
https://www.pleasance.co.uk/event/flush
In line with the show’s themes of safety and solidarity, FLUSH is proudly partnered with Ask For Angela — a national initiative that helps individuals discreetly seek support in bars and venues by “asking for Angela.” askforangela.co.uk