The delight of this play lies in the personality of Sasha, who is hilarious and vulnerable, smart and silly, a dreamer and a blagger. There is something great about the way that 24-year-old Sasha Clayton refuses to be cowed by a world that is against her. “I’m a singer-slash-rapper,” she insists. “I’m not the sort of girl that will be working at f***ing Wetherspoons for £8 an hour.” No indeed. She’s the kind of girl who is unemployed and hangs out in her bedroom in Stratford in east London smoking pot, being hypercritical of her mum and stepdad (who is admittedly a pain), writing songs and singing to herself. The music, by the Last Skeptik, aka Corin Douieb, is great, although some of the lyrics need rescuing: “I’m taking a selfie of us/ Look at the camera, don’t blush.”

★★★☆☆ - Ann Treneman - The Times