Fleabag: A Tale of Depravity and Depression

It’s been a while since I last posted anything, I’m aware. However, I’m working to change that. I’ve been spending the Christmas break binge-watching series, and a few of them have stood out to me and inspired me to return to my neglected blog. The first is Fleabag.

Fleabag is a black comedy created, written and starring Phoebe Waller-Bridge. Most people would recognise from the second season of Broadchurch, however I’m sure there are a few people, who like me avoided the second season of Broadchurch because they’d heard it was terrible, and had no idea who she was.

Fleabag is a new addition to the trend of comedies that are both hilarious and simultaneoulsy depressing. Like Crazy Ex Girlfriend, You’re The Worst, Bojack Horseman (which I’ve never seen, but I’ll be sure to change that soon), this show offers a terrifyingly accurate depiction of mental illness.

The unnamed character (all the reviews I’ve read refer to her as ‘Fleabag’) is very similar to Rebecca Bunch and Gretchen Cutler. She’s an intelligent, witty, sarcastic woman who just happens to be damaged. Like them, she’s also a very sexual person, as seen in the opening scene. However it must be noted that she prefers the “drama” of sex to sex itself.

Her relationships with people tend to vary from dysfunctional to hostile. From her sister, to her father, the men she sleeps with, to her absolutely monstrous stepmother, played with manipulative relish, by Olivia Colman. In fact, the only relationship she has that seems normal and healthy, is that with her best friend, Boo, who dies before the show begins (this isn’t a spoiler, but her death is both hilarious and heartbreaking).

Fleabag (the character), is a delight. From the moment she breaks the fourth wall the first time, she invites us into her world, her funny, messy, bleak, depressing world. Whether she’s emotionally manipulating (and actually scaring) her boyfriend, to breaking champagne glasses and making a scene at her demon stepmother’s sexhibition, everything she does is worth watching.

Something about this show really affected me. In fact at the fifth episode, I started crying and I couldn’t stop. Maybe it’s because with the writing, and with the terrific performances, Fleabag doesn’t come off as cartoonish in anyway, instead it dives into the pool of ugliness and pain that exists in the main character, refuses to demonise her and connects with us, making the audience feel what she’s feeling.

Before I end this, I need to add that the sequence at the beginning of episode 2 is one of the best things I’ve seen on TV. If you haven’t watched Fleabag, watch it now.




So here I stand. Brittle. Almost broken. I have been stripped of all my senses and now I have nothing. Woe is me.

There is a fire inside me. Long ago it burned with intensity. I could feel its warmth coursing through my veins. But now the fire is dying. And I am cold.


Usually, I don’t write about music. This wasn’t meant to be centred around music. The reason is that I often find it difficult to describe music. The way I listen to it; the way it affects me. However I’ve decided to make an exception. And it’s all because Willow Smith decided to release an album.

I wasn’t really a fan of her, and a friend inspired me to listen to this album. And now that I have. I’m in awe.

Ardipithecus is an album that’s coherent and disjointed; mature and juvenile, all at once. And I fucking loved it. I listened to it early in the morning, and I was the only one awake so it was more than an album. It was an experience.

From the first song I was transported into another world. And it was weird and intense and vibrant. Everything was heightened and I felt connected to the world.

I’m not really sure if I have a favourite song. Each song gave me a different experience. There was just something about this album that inspired me. It was ambitious and experimental and at the same time down to earth. There was something in the album that made me think of Lorde’s Pure Heroine. Beneath all the ‘New-Age’ references, it’s an album about being young.17WILLOWSMITH1-superJumbo


The Emmys.

I was sitting in the living room last night, watching the Emmys with my mother. I was enjoying myself, enjoying the show and then I saw George R.R. Martin sitting in the audience having the time of his life. Who invited him?
I don’t mean to be rude but as a GOT fan who was pissed off and messed up by the ending of A Dance with Dragons, the last thing I want to see George Martin sitting in a room for over two hours. I just want the next book to come out already.

Gone Girl: The Book Review


WHERE DO I BEGIN? I finished this book recently and I can’t stop thinking about it.  This book contained so many twists and turns and mind-fucks that I couldn’t think straight after I finished it.

At first glance, Gone Girl is your typical true crime novel. Wife disappears, husband becomes the main suspect, blah blah blah. However, Gone Girl is a dark, twisted, depraved look into psychopathy and chronicles one of the most fucked up marriages I have ever read about.

This book was spectacular to say the least. One of the best books I’ve ever read. I would give a detailed summary of this book but where’s the fun in that? Read this book if you want your mind blown. However, Gone Girl is at times, dark and sickening and not for the faint hearted.

I’d recommend this book for fans of psychological thrillers. If you love books with unreliable narrators, psychopaths and more twists and turns and bombshells than a season of Revenge, then Gone Girl is for you. If not, read something else because you will either hate this book, or become traumatized.

Kudos to Gillian Flynn. The only thing I’m afraid of is the movie. I hope that the ending isn’t changed too much. Also, a note to Ben Affleck and Rosamund Pike or as they are in the movie, Nick and Amy Dunne; Don’t mess this up.