An article by Kate Wyver for the Guardian.
“We had wine. It was late.” Producer Francesca Moody shrugs as if that combination is where all genius lies. Six years ago, she and the director Vicky Jones read a single-page monologue by Phoebe Waller-Bridge. “Someone said we should take it to the Edinburgh fringe.” So began Moody’s journey with the skewer-tongued Fleabag, which brought the country – tipsy, horny and broken – to its knees.
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