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Why, she asks, do powerful men rarely face consequences for actions that would get women fired or ostracised?Īcross the road from this churchyard is Clissold Park, where Christie often runs, and where a key story from Who Am I? takes place.
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I find angry women really funny and actually you still don’t see that a lot in film, TV or standup.” Such double standards are another theme of the show. With this show, there’s a big change in how I want to perform it. “You would never say that to Mark Thomas. “Why the fuck do I need to be friendly and approachable?” she says. In the past, she says, people have suggested she needs to smile more, make her feminism accessible. “The extra anger you get motivates you to do things. “I think the audience doubt us more – there’s less trust.” Embracing anger has also helped. While women in comedy face less hostility than they used to, Christie still sees problems. In the show’s opener, she plays with cliches of the angry, forgetful woman – harnessing her newfound fearlessness. Why not?” Boris Johnson’s lies are staggering – if he was a woman, he wouldn’t be in a job any more We don’t see ourselves anywhere and I want to see us sweating or struggling to think of a word. Like on TV, there are no menopausal characters. “It’s staggering to me how little I knew, how little society knows,” she says. There are “frightening” physical symptoms – memory loss, heart palpitations and hot flushes – which she briefly thought might be signs of dementia or cancer, but psychologically the menopause has been a revelation. “They were like, ‘If not now, when?’” She decided to stop wasting time on pointless household tasks – descaling the shower head, finding the correct lids for Tupperware – that go unnoticed by everyone else, and started speaking her mind. She bought a motorbike for her 50th birthday, the first she’s ridden since she was a teenager, with advice and encouragement from women’s biking group VC London and the ex she used to ride with. I don’t feel bogged down worrying about how I’m perceived.” “I’ve come out of lockdown feeling much more confident, caring less about things that have plagued me throughout my life. “Fear has stopped me from doing a lot – interviews, water slides, calling people out, certain types of work,” she says. Contrary to her expectations, Christie experienced the menopause as a rebirth, a deliverance even. I’m told to expect “menopause and death”. Her new show Who Am I? picks up these threads. ‘Why do I need to be friendly and approachable – you’d never say that to Mark Thomas’ … Christie back on stage. I felt quite anxious.” On the night it went out, the tension caused a “proper, full-on hot flush”. “The stakes were high,” she says, “because I wanted to get it right for my sister. One poignant conversation was about her nephew Luke, who tragically died young. Although she got their permission, she didn’t tell her dad, sister Eileen and friend Ashley exactly when she’d be recording their phone calls, lending a naturalness to the chats. Whispered monologues, surreal characters (Zeus, the Grim Reaper and dead Bridget among them) and real telephone conversations are stitched together into something quite intimate. Working with BBC Radio Theatre, where she’d previously recorded standup, she decided to try something different.
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Her thoughts coalesced into her BBC Radio 4 series Mortal, which tackled birth, life, death and the afterlife. I was like, ‘We’re not here for very long – what are you going to leave behind?’” In lockdown, preoccupied by the passage of time, she decided to look at the moon every night: “I thought about how many moons I’ve got left to see. As one of the many people who lost loved ones to Covid-19, death has been on her mind during the pandemic, and her thoughts on ageing have been exacerbated by the arrival of the menopause.
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According to the app, Christie, who recently turned 50, has 34 years left. Fittingly, we’re sitting in a churchyard near her home in London, not far from some actual gravestones. ‘I must tell you how old I’m going to be when I die,” says Bridget Christie, whipping out her phone to show me a small cartoon gravestone bearing the date of her demise.