By TheOttawacker

I'm in love

As most of my friends know, I am likely to go full-steam ahead into my latest enthuses. Recently, I have been on a Ireland kick, which started last year with the discovery of John Spillane (poor bastard didn't even know he was lost) - and has carried on ever since. We weren't taught about Ireland, you see, in our Empire-driven grammar school in Liverpool. So the discovery of music other than the abominable Lord of the Dance, literature, history and film has been washing over me pretty much unfettered ever since.

But today, exhausted from a 13-hour translation stint, I discovered Fleabag. Bugger-me-sideways, how had I missed this? It is magnificent. Phoebe Waller-Bridge is an incredible talent, such poise and delivery. And a potty-mouth too... I loved it. It combines the vulgarity and genius of The Thick of It with the warmth of Gavin and Stacey... and the giggleworthiness of Inbetweeners. But that completely fails to do it justice.

It's original. It's brilliant. And when she talks to the camera, she has this ability of being able to talk just to you. A brilliant writer, a brilliant actor, a brilliant comedian. 

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