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We had questions for Sissy Boy, and before getting into Jake Bickford’s answers, it’s worth grounding what the show actually is. At its centre is a Bristolian teenager on the cusp of leaving home for uni, caught between the safety of his childhood bedroom and the far less stable world of his online relationship with a dominant older partner. The play moves between humiliation, confusion, bravado with the lads at the local, and the private corners of the internet where he tries to make sense of desires he barely has language for. It’s a one‑hour, one‑man coming‑of‑age comedy that isn’t afraid to prod at taboos — not for shock value, but to ask what we hide, why we hide it, and what it costs to keep parts of ourselves unseen in a world that’s changing faster than he can keep up.
With that in mind, here’s the full interview:
I’ve spent the afternoon going through your material, and before we get into the questions, I want to say this: it’s always refreshing when a company reaches out with work that actually has something to say. There’s a clarity of intent in Sissy Boy — a willingness to sit in the murkier corners of identity without flinching — and that makes the whole exchange feel worthwhile. Below is a polished, press‑ready version of your interview, with each question bolded and your answers following cleanly underneath.
Your play digs into the “private, often contradictory spaces where identity is shaped” — what part of that inner world was hardest to put on stage?
Just like with any kind of closeted environment, creating a sense of believable secrecy while maintaining it as a safe sanctuary for the character is always a challenge. Sissy Boy is a teenager living in constant fear of being discovered by his family and friends, so his bedroom had to reflect that sense of a fragile safe haven, seen in details like his double password‑locked laptop and costumes hidden deep in boxes under his bed.
Like most teens, Sissy Boy doesn’t have a literal safe or secure lockbox; instead, he relies on the illusion of safety — those hastily stashed boxes under the bed could just as easily be found. While we aimed for a minimalist staging plan due to fringe constraints, the remaining essentials reflect his current state: our most private and intimate selves are often stored away in the hidden corners of our bedrooms.
You describe the piece as “darkly funny and disarmingly candid.” How did you decide where humour ends and discomfort begins?
While this story is not autobiographical, it does contain elements drawn from situations in my own life — experiences that, fortunately, I can now look back on and smile at, no matter how dark or damning they felt at the time. In British culture especially, one of our greatest strengths is the ability to turn our most tragic moments into scenes of dark comedy, which is why this show draws inspiration from works like Baby Reindeer and The Inbetweeners.
Much of the emotion in the piece comes from how comedy around taboos is double‑edged. People become so accustomed to making light of their own experiences that they can’t help but laugh — even when they perhaps shouldn’t. I’ve always found this repression and reluctance to show sadness deeply compelling. It’s something we explore in Sissy Boy, encouraging the audience to question whether they’re laughing out of joy, discomfort, sadness, or simply awkwardness.
The show moves between Bristol, London and the digital world. How did those three landscapes shape the character’s emotional geography?
At its core, this is a coming‑of‑age story about a teenager stepping into adulthood and, in turn, into himself. Sissy Boy dreams of becoming an actor, not just out of ambition but out of a sense that the only way he can fully express who he is will be through being someone else.
Moving from Bristol to London is framed as both destiny and escape. He’s excited to leave home and “finally be left alone,” driven partly by the desire to train and prove himself, and partly by a curiosity to explore the more private, taboo corners of his identity. But once he arrives, that sense of freedom becomes complicated. The pressures of training are far greater than he expected, and the past continues to pull at him through fractured friendships back home.
The online world reflects a sort of limbo where the mask he has to wear in both cities is taken off and Sissy Boy can finally be honest about his place in the physical world. The lack of landmarks and structure in this online domain gives us the opportunity to focus on the character’s true emotional state rather than trying to paint a scene of the world around him at that time.
You talk about “late-night chatrooms, anonymous relationships and real-world encounters.” What did you want to reveal about how men actually behave when no one is watching?
We wanted to shine a spotlight on the issue of young people (particularly young men) and their access to pornographic material, and how this can shape their development and interpersonal relationships. From an early age, Sissy Boy is exposed to grooming and harmful situations that are beyond his control, leaving him without the space to safely and securely explore his own sexuality.
Within dynamics of feminisation and domination, feelings of self‑disgust and shame can often emerge, even in consensual adult contexts. Experiencing elements of this at such a young age, compounded by his own mental health struggles in a modern, hyper‑connected world, is something we felt important to explore with care and nuance.
The play confronts masculinity without broad slogans — “not in broad terms, but in the private… spaces.” What’s the most uncomfortable truth you found while writing it?
One of the harshest realities I’ve come to recognise is how little support many men feel able to offer. From my own experience, the sense of being powerless to help friends and family in crisis is something I’ve struggled with for years — and, even through writing and performing this play, I’m not sure I’ve become much better at it.
That’s why I wanted Sissy Boy to speak particularly to male audiences, both young and old, and to encourage reflection on our own internal “boogeymen.” There’s no simple formula when it comes to mental health, and no guaranteed outcomes, but I hope this play can contribute to an ongoing conversation about how men can better support the people they care about, now and in the future.
You’ve said “we must strike while the iron is hot and push this kind of divisive and original theatre.” What feels most urgent about telling this story right now?
Everything with the manosphere, nationalism, and privatisation is rampant in our country, all of which is feeding far‑right views and reforms. Gender enforcement is a crucial one: when this play was written back in 2022, Sissy Boy would have had more opportunities to explore not only his sexuality but gender as it’s discussed in the play. It would still have been taboo, but now it feels even tougher, as laws like the Birth Sex Requirement are only a starting point for anti‑trans legislation.
The production is intentionally stripped back — “performance-led… leaning into language and immediacy.” How does that minimalism change the way you perform the piece night after night?
We draw a lot of inspiration from the audience, as you never know who’s going to walk through the door. While it isn’t a stand‑up show, it is a coming‑of‑age comedy, and we welcome all kinds of audience interaction. The piece is intentionally divisive and explores themes that may make people uncomfortable, so the more reaction we get, the more Sissy Boy has to play with. As an actor, responding to that energy is one of the most exciting and rewarding parts of the performance.
The character’s online persona blurs with his lived experience. What’s the moment in the show where that collapse feels most dangerous to you?
The most dangerous moment comes when Sissy Boy enters his first long‑term relationship, where he can no longer hide his online history and interactions. It’s a fear many people have faced, and something we wanted to portray with kindness rather than as another moment of humiliation for the character. You become quite attached to these characters as you write them, so it always feels meaningful when grace, understanding, and compassion are offered to someone living such a closely guarded life.
You trained at Fourth Monkey and you’re now three shows into building your own company. How did that devising background shape the writing of Sissy Boy?
My drama school gave me a strong foundation in devising work with minimal time, budget, and resources. During my second year, we were heavily impacted by Covid, and much of the in‑person physical training we had expected was no longer possible. This was a tough situation for any establishment doing acting to handle, not to mention a school built on physical performance.
We had no choice but to push through. Much of our work was created with little to no staging, costume, lighting, or budget, and in some cases we were even attempting to act via Zoom. It was far from ideal, but it forced a level of resilience and resourcefulness that has stayed with me.
I’m especially grateful to Poppy, our Head of 2nd Year, whose direction and support during that time made a real difference. And ultimately, I’m proud that my co‑founder and fellow student, Jesse Lamb, and I were able to carry that resilience into building something of our own — even if it wasn’t quite the lesson the school intended to teach us.
The play asks “what it costs to keep parts of yourself unseen.” After performing it, do you feel you’ve paid any of that cost personally?
Therapy would probably have been cheaper than doing the Fringe, there’s no doubt about that. But it’s an opportunity unlike any other, and I knew it would have to be something big to make it worthwhile. This is the hardest I’ve ever worked in this industry, as a writer, producer, and actor, and I know it’s only going to get tougher from here.
I’ve poured my heart and soul into this piece, and I hope people enjoy it and find something to reflect on. But even if they don’t, I can be proud that I didn’t take any shortcuts and gave it my best shot. So yes — I’ve put a lot on the line to get Sissy Boy to where it is now, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
My dad once told me as a kid that “Bickfords don’t quit,” so I’m ready to take this festival by storm and meet some amazing people.
