Tomato Seeds In a Sandwich Bag

Karen Sims is hard to clock. She considers herself coquettish and charming. She is alone in this consideration. She naps at red lights, writes imaginary obituaries of her colleagues to deal with the tedium of work meetings, and gets disproportionately angry at bright bike lights. However, she’s pretty funny when talking about current affairs, international politics, personal relationships, the workplace and why if you raise independent children they will leave home straight after you move into the big house you only bought because everyone told you millennials never leave home.

An experienced comedy writer and performer, Karen is shamelessly judgemental and opinionated. A hater (but in a good way) of several men, she will chip away at their psychological profile because not being qualified never stopped the average person from diagnosing all sorts of conditions in people they’ve never met. Join in. I bet you know who in your street is on the spectrum. It’s which spectrum that is the important bit.

Always willing to help, Karen will refine your social media skills to get you the ransom you’ve always wanted and empathise with you about your absent libido, unless you have one, in which case she wants you to share. Recently part of a project to educate middle-aged women on the perils of chlamydia, Karen is sure she’s got most things sorted. She survived 12 funerals in one calendar year and learned that Sarah Brightman sings requiems in 11 languages.

Come along and have a gentle laugh even if you wear talcum powder. Karen does, at night, all alone with her ancient canine and sitcoms on repeat. Plus you’ll no longer need to wonder about those tomato seeds. Avoid disappointment. Do not come to this show if you are looking for coarse language and drawn out discussions on bodily fluids. Audience interaction is welcome, until it’s not. No puns allowed.