Can't judge a play by its title

This short, sharp new play by Penelope Skinner takes its audience on a dizzying backward journey through the seven ages of woman. And it isn’t the cheeriest of feminist theories of development: you’d be forgiven for concluding, by the end/ beginning of it, that as soon as a girl loses her virginity, she’s on a hiding to whoredom, coke addiction and nicking baguettes from Sainsbury’s for her supper.

Perched on an unmade bed, the archetypal ‘F’ is readying herself for work in a clip joint, before leaping back through the defining nights of her sexual life, in explanation of how she got there.

There are a fair few glitches in the telling of this tale. Skinner bewails the fact that women are defined in relation to men but ‘F’ is only ever as interesting as her latest shag. More pressing is that, in the slightly mumsy hands of Becci Gemmell, she’s far too intelligent, lovable and self aware to have tumbled so completely from dancing to Kate Bush in a middle-class semi to grinding to Britney around a greased pole on New Year’s Eve.

That said, the monologue is consistent, fantastic fun. Never salacious, always wry and wonderfully observed, it’s delivered with enthralling ease by Gemmell under Daniel Goldman’s unpretentious direction. However nagging the story’s flaws, F***ed is a far more joyous, witty and reflective hour of theatre than its title would suggest.

Until May 3, Tue to Sat 9.30pm, Sun 8pm, £10, £6 to £8 concs

F*ck*d
Old Red Lion
St John Street, EC1V 4NJ