After a sold-out run at the Edinburgh Fringe and rave reviews nationwide, KAREN storms back into London — and this time, she’s bringing all the chaos to Underbelly Boulevard Soho. Written, produced and performed by Sarah Cameron-West, the uproarious one-woman show turns heartbreak, workplace politics, and feminine rage into a brutally funny theatrical therapy session. Part Bridget Jones, part meltdown with meaning, KAREN is raw, relatable, and impossible to look away from. We caught up with Sarah Cameron-West to talk about comedy, catharsis, and what it really takes to turn pain into punchlines.
KAREN has been described as a “modern-day Bridget Jones with rage issues.” What inspired you to turn heartbreak and office chaos into a one-woman comedy show?
I never set out to write a full comedy show. KAREN started as a short monologue for a competition in 2021, and I was really just exploring that feeling of heartbreak meeting professional chaos. But when I performed it, people laughed (way more than I expected) not at her pain, but in recognition. That’s when I realised that comedy was the best way to tell this story. Humour gives you a way into something raw – it makes it safe to look at the uglier, more chaotic parts of being human. With my director, Evie Ayres-Townshend, we leaned into that – using laughter as a way to explore heartbreak, female rage, and the glorious mess of trying to hold it all together.
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You’ve performed KAREN everywhere from the Edinburgh Fringe to Chichester Festival Theatre, and now it’s heading to Soho. How has the show evolved through those different audiences and spaces?
It’s been a real gift to perform KAREN for so many different audiences – from the intimacy of the Edinburgh Fringe to the energy of home turf at Chichester, and now the buzz of Soho. One of the joys of performing my own work is the freedom to experiment. In the early stages, I was constantly testing things – trying out different deliveries, playing with timing, adding new mannerisms to find what landed best. That kind of flexibility was essential to shaping the show into what it is now.
Over time, KAREN has developed its own rhythm. It’s like pressing play on something finely tuned; the structure is solid, the beats are set – but there’s still room to respond in the moment. I never perform in a vacuum. I’m constantly reading the audience – gauging their energy in the first few scenes and adjusting my delivery to meet them where they are. Some crowds are quiet and reflective, others are rowdy and ready to laugh – and that affects how I play certain moments. By the fourth scene, I usually have a clear read on the room and can tailor the rest of the show to really connect.
It’s that balance – between a tested structure and live responsiveness – that keeps the show fresh for me and hopefully alive for every audience.
The story begins with a birthday breakup and spirals into workplace mayhem. What do you think it is about this kind of emotional chaos that resonates so strongly with audiences?
I think the emotional chaos resonates so strongly with audiences because, while we may not have experienced this exact scenario, the core feelings—like betrayal, frustration, and the feeling of losing control—are universal. KAREN embodies that raw, messy side of life that many people keep hidden, either out of fear or simply because it’s not socially acceptable to express. The birthday breakup, for example, is a symbol of the personal upheaval that can happen unexpectedly, and it’s that unpredictability that feels so real.
Moreover, it’s not just the breakup itself, but the way it spirals into workplace mayhem. It’s a reminder of how interconnected personal and professional lives can be. People bring their emotional baggage into work, and sometimes that affects their decisions and relationships with colleagues. The chaos that follows in KAREN’s journey is relatable because it mirrors the way we often feel when life throws curveballs. As viewers, we’re not just rooting for the protagonist; we’re rooting for our own inner strength and ability to navigate the messiness of life. It’s comforting to see that even when things fall apart, there’s a chance for redemption, or at least growth, by the end.
You’ve said that KAREN explores how humour and sarcasm can mask pain. How do you balance those two sides — the comedy and the emotional honesty — in your performance?
Just like the classic theatre masks, comedy and tragedy go hand in hand – they enhance each other. For me, the real magic happens when an audience is laughing one minute and then completely silent the next, hit by something raw or unexpected. That kind of emotional whiplash keeps the show alive and unpredictable. It means the audience is always leaning in, never quite sure what’s coming next.
In performance, I try to stay rooted in emotional truth. The humour in KAREN often comes from a place of discomfort or defensiveness – it’s how the character copes. So even when it’s funny, there’s always a thread of honesty running through it. I’m not playing for laughs just to entertain; I’m using humour as a way to reveal what’s underneath. When the jokes stop, the audience feels the weight of what’s been hiding beneath them all along. That’s where the real emotional payoff is.
Balancing those two sides is about staying connected to the character’s inner world, even in the funniest moments. If I believe it, they’ll believe it – whether they’re laughing or holding their breath.
The show dives into feminine rage and emotional repression in a really relatable way. Do you see KAREN as part of a wider cultural moment where women are reclaiming anger and imperfection?
I don’t actually think rage should be gendered – anger is a human emotion – but it has been, because women’s anger has historically had to be palatable. I was so tired of seeing “female rage” in the media depicted as a single tear and a trembling voice. In KAREN, I wanted to show what it really looks like when that repression finally cracks.
And yes, I do think we’re in a wider cultural moment where women are reclaiming that space – not just anger, but imperfection too. You can feel a collective exhaustion with the idea that women have to be composed, likeable, or perfect all the time. There’s something really exciting about seeing female artists, writers, and performers leaning into the mess, the rage, and the honesty of being human – you can see it in the work of Michaela Coel, Phoebe Waller-Bridge, Sharon Horgan, and so many emerging artists.
You play every emotion, every awkward encounter, every moment of meltdown solo — no supporting cast. What are the biggest challenges and freedoms of performing a one-woman show?
It’s funny because KAREN being a one-woman show actually came out of necessity rather than a grand creative decision. I was getting so bored of waiting for the phone to ring with an opportunity, so I decided to make my own. I didn’t have the money to pay other actors, and I didn’t want to be beholden to everyone’s busy schedules trying to coordinate rehearsals – but I knew I could rely on myself to get it done. The only format that made sense for that kind of independence was a one-woman show.
The freedom of that has been incredible – having complete creative control to do whatever I wanted, to follow every impulse without compromise. But that freedom is also the biggest challenge, because when you’re out there on your own, it’s all on you. If it flies or flops, there’s nowhere to hide. It’s terrifying and exhilarating in equal measure.
Keeping the energy up for an entire hour is no joke; you’re the whole engine of the show. And if you forget a line, no one is coming to save you — you have to improvise and make it look intentional. It can be isolating too, because you don’t have scene partners to bounce off in rehearsal.
That’s why I’m so grateful to my brilliant director, Evie Ayres-Townshend. She was completely immersed in the show with me and incredibly supportive. I never felt like I was doing it alone — I always had this amazing teammate who was constantly feeding back, challenging me, and helping to deepen not just my performance but the foundations of the show itself.
You’ve worked in film and TV (Anansi Boys, Walk Home). How does creating and performing your own theatre work compare to being part of larger productions?
It’s so interesting to do both. With film and TV, you’re a cog in a much bigger machine – but with a one-woman show, you are the machine. The creative control is incredibly liberating, but it also comes with a huge amount of responsibility and pressure.
That’s why being part of a larger production actually feels like such a treat. All you have to focus on is your one job: acting. You’re not worrying about the lights, the costume, the props, or ticket sales – you just turn up, do the work, and then someone’s offering you lunch while you’re being pampered in the make-up chair. It’s bliss!
But doing both has made me appreciate each side more. Theatre gives me ownership and immediacy; film and TV remind me how nice it is to share the load.
After such a huge response to KAREN, what’s next for you creatively — another one-woman piece, something for screen, or a whole new direction?
I’m so grateful for how KAREN has changed my life – it honestly makes me quite emotional. What started as a ten-minute sketch I wrote in my Notes app has completely shifted my career. It got me an agent I absolutely adore, it made me a published playwright, and it’s opened doors to write for television.
KAREN is currently in TV development, which still feels so surreal to say – so hopefully you’ll be seeing Protagonist on your screens in the future! It’s also being developed for radio, which is a totally new direction for me and one I’m really enjoying exploring.
Beyond KAREN, I’m working on a new theatre piece – this time with a full cast – a modern reimagining of Chekhov’s Uncle Vanya. I’ve also got a few other TV projects in the pipeline that I’m really excited to start pitching in the New Year!
xxx
KAREN
Date: Wednesday 5th November 2025
Location: Underbelly Boulevard Soho, London W1F 0BT
Running Time: 55 minutes
Time: 8pm