There she lies on the mattress, snuggled in a thin blanket, holding herself tight. It’s silent and dark and through the thin walls of the theatre we can hear sirens of police cars and roaring traffic. However, this only adds to Chloe Florence’s exposure to the elements of the city.
Grime explodes in our ears. A Snapchat story plays on the wall, we are pulled into a warehouse rave and she’s there with us. She throws herself around freely, an ecstasy runs through her – for the moment. The night ends. “If you haven’t eaten pussy I swear you should try it” – she says.
Chloe (playing herself) begins telling her story of her life in the Young People’s Hostel in Hackney where she lives. Chloe smoked around seven spliffs to get high, seven spliffs a day to cope. She escapes through London’s rave scene and a concoction of booze, weed, speed, ecstasy and eating (and being eaten) out.
Unfortunately even these respites are being stolen by the rich with the raves moving “further and further out of London”, as far as “Walthamstow?!” The once humble rave is now the playground of rich businessmen and privileged kids dressing like they’re homeless to upset mummy and daddy.
The style is ever changing, with moments of spoken word; poetry that rivals the bard; a soundscape that is as polarised as Chloe’s mentality from Britney and Galantis to a what could be a best of grime mixtape.
Chloe’s style is sensitive but bold – a woman who is hurt by life, and especially by a government who only cares for the rich, a government who remains, who values profit over people.
Chloe reveals moments from her past – the time that a woman who lives on the streets recognises her as someone who is homeless, the multiple times that she did her makeup in Superdrug, or the hours she spent sleeping on buses to avoid the cold night air.
The pain accompanying this piece is ever intensifying as I contemplate my failure and our society’s failure to care for our fellow human. Chloe’s performance is a political speech told through old snapchats and anecdotes and the fire of her performance is fuelled by an intense and justifiable anger about a failing system.
As I walk to the tube, down the escalator and to the end of the Victoria line silent tears slide gently down my cheeks which are rouged by an an aroused fire within me.
Chloe’s final farewell to the audience is a big ‘fuck you’ to me and to you for letting this happen.
Smoke Weed Eat Pussy Everyday is playing at Camden People’s Theatre until 23 January. For more information and tickets, visit the Camden People’s Theatre website.