Stevenage soft lad Jacob Hawley left his hometown behind a decade ago and has ascended Britain's social class system, moving to London and forging career in comedy... Just in time for commissioners to decide they want more working class voices (he has quit the oat milk lattes, drawn a nike tick on to his chinos and re-adopted the glottle stop).

In this show he dissects his journey from working class banter boy to Inner-London-feminist. This is politics for idiots, feminism for lads, love stories for louts and self-care for those who don't bother.

Are blokes dismissed as bad-feminists purely because they lack the correct language? Are working class people's mental health problems dismissed because our society values tortured artists over tortured cleaners? And most importantly, is it even worth going to a protest if you don't tell everyone about it?