"I’ve been thinking about what an autobiography is. What it’s supposed to do. I think – I’m pretty proud of this, not gonna lie – it doesn’t have to do all that boring stuff about who the person is, where they come from, which was their favourite Tellytubby, what’s their preferred type of fruit juice. Mine’s passion fruit, by the way.
That isn’t what makes a person. It should go right into the middle. Like, the gooey bit of a Crème Egg. Or a pie. A human pie…"

Sophie. Joel. Sue. Three interweaving monologues come together to tell a story about teenage relationships, mental health, and the boredom of life in the middle of nowhere.

It's December 31st, 1999. Y2K is in the air. Two scientists leave a New Years Eve party to discover whether their computer simulation of life will evolve when the clock strikes midnight.

Co-authored with Shameera Lin

Corpsing is an absurd, haunting dark comedy about the politics surrounding family, grief and how death is understood across cultures, written by Shameera - a very-non-white Malaysian of mixed heritage - and Jamie, whom she calls ‘one of the whitest guys’ she knows.

What happens after we die? For Christina, the answer comes as a shock: nothing. No gateway guarded by an old bearded white man, no ascension into a beam of light, no dark tunnels. Instead, she’s left exactly where she was before – in her body, lying on a hospital bed, her mother just outside the door. There’s clearly been a mistake.

And as she is carted around – interned in a morgue, taken to a funeral home and finally carried through her own funeral – she can’t help but see the absurdity of the situation. From her mother’s insistence that Christina is to blame for this terrible event, to her aunt’s sudden professions of love, to the funeral director’s pretensions to the status of an auteur, and finally to the shambolic religious pick-n-mix of the funeral itself, it becomes clear that the living are far stranger than the dead.

Most of the time, though, she’s just bored. There isn’t much to do when your nerves are no longer firing.

As she observes her own last rites, she is forced to come to terms with the relationships she has left behind. She watches as her family – her confusing, smothering, chaotic, spiteful, beautiful, hilarious family– quickly expose their badly-hidden cultural divides and internal politics.

She slowly realises what she has been trying to hide from: her family, her complicated heritage, and most of all the reality of her own mortality.

Start. Stop. Rewind. Sasha reviews their latest attempt to date whilst autistic.

https://theatreweekly.com/review-full-disclosure-theatres-xposed-at-southwark-playhouse-2021/

When Ali begins her new job at Magic's Supermarket, something seems a little odd. One journey into the walk-in fridge later and she finds herself in a strangely new world – full of consumerist creatures, conniving councils and clandestine conspiracies which shake her very perceptions of reality. Who lies behind the shop’s shelves? And what secrets are the self-checkouts hiding? By the end, there’ll be anarchy in the aisles and bedlam in the biscuit section.

Selected by Alex Horne as the winner of the Footlights’ Harry Porter Prize 2019, Market Magic promises to take customer service where no comedy has before.

Alex Horne (judge): "When I was 18 I worked in the dairy department of Budgens in Midhurst. When I was 21 I tried to write a sitcom called MyMart based on my experience. This play does the job far far better and is my winner. With the feel of Alice in Wonderland and a chaos that was certainly echoing round my brain as I filled the shelves, this is an ambitious play that I would definitely want to see. I was tempted to read it to my kids but I think I'll wait till the 6 year old hits double figures."

The Body Factory is a dark comedy play satirising the world of gyms, wellness, and the communities that form around them. It’s premise is simple: what if a cult presented itself as a gym? We follow River, a new recruit, as they discover how alternative health and a desire to be belong can become a gateway into a parallel multiverse of paranoia, compulsion, and control.

(Work in progress)