Inside Little Boxes with Joann Condon

I caught up with Joann Condon to talk about Little Boxes, her hit one-woman show that’s making waves at the Fringe. From the moment we started chatting she was full of stories, quick to laugh, and never far from a good cup of tea. We spoke about growing up in the East End, the unexpected moments that shaped her, and why she’s determined to help people step out of the boxes they’ve been put in.

Image by Sonja Horsman

You’ve described seeing Boy George on Top of the Pops in 1982 as a pivotal moment. What do you think it was about that image or feeling that struck such a chord with you at the time?

I was 12, brought up in the East End. Felt my life was mapped out, and it wasn’t a life I wanted. Then I saw Boy George looking amazing and somehow seeing him gave me a belief that there was a very different world out there I could be part of. That was the moment I decided I would be an actor, even though I’d never believed that was possible due to being fat.

You’ve had roles in some iconic British comedies, from Little Britain to The Office. How did those experiences in such well-loved shows influence your confidence to step out and tell your own story on stage?

I loved being part of Little Britain, it was such fun to film, and I always had a great time on set. Filming The Office was fun too, but I was only there for an evening. I’ve always struggled with confidence, I still do, but being in those iconic shows really helped. I was worried my story wouldn’t be interesting enough, but I think everyone has a story to tell.

Photo by Sonja Horsman

This is the first time you’ve written and performed your own work. What was the most rewarding part of reclaiming your own story and what surprised you in the process?

I’d always wanted to do a one-woman show, and at that point in my career, jobs were coming in more slowly, so I saw it as a chance to give it a go. The process started in 2019 and it’s taken time to really claim this as my story, even though it always was. Over time the show has evolved, and I cover very personal ground. It still surprises me how emotions can come up when least expected, but I own these feelings. When I see the impact my story has on the audience, I feel touched. Whether they’re laughing or crying, I know I’ve made them think differently about themselves and others. Hopefully they also look for their ‘me’ box and make it as big as possible.

There’s a strong thread in Little Boxes about inherited expectations. Were there any boxes you didn’t realise you’d been placed in until you began writing the show?

Coming from the East End with Irish parents, there was a ‘glass ceiling’ — don’t get too big for your boots. Not to expect too much, as most of the East End was working class. There was more of a class divide in the 70s. Although it’s not a box, I think until writing Little Boxes I was still stuck in that mindset. Not with my children, I’ve always told them they can be and do anything. I’m listening to that now as well.

Photo by Sonja Horsman

You debuted at the Fringe back in 1991. What does returning more than three decades later feel like and what’s changed most about the festival, for better or worse?

That feels like a lifetime ago. I was 21, just out of drama school. A few of us started a theatre company called Flesh It Out and performed a children’s show at Hill Street Theatre, there were 8 of us in the cast. The Fringe was big then, but now it seems massive.

There are over 3000 shows, which is brilliant because there really is something for everyone, but standing out is super hard. Accommodation is as ridiculously expensive as it was in 1991. I’m very excited to be part of the fun. I’m also looking forward to flyering, we’re giving out tea bags with the show details on. I think that’s a win win, get a cuppa and hear about a great show.

Have there been any standout audience reactions, especially from younger people or those who connected with the themes of identity and self-worth, that stayed with you?

There have been so many, which is why I know this show connects. At Adelaide Fringe, a young actor who was transitioning came to the show. They had lost their father during their journey, and I talk about losing my mum during my first pregnancy. It was lovely to talk afterwards about how that had affected them.

A young woman in her early 30s told me she had lost her ‘me box’. It can happen at any age. I’ve had middle-aged women shout mid-show in defiance, which is always funny, and older men who’ve bottled up emotions say the show gave them a platform to talk. The show addresses a universal truth, we’ve all been put in boxes. This show lets people out of them.

Motherhood clearly reshaped the way you think about identity. When your daughter started encountering ‘boxes’ of her own, how did that influence your sense of responsibility as a storyteller?

When my daughter was three, she told us she didn’t want to wear girl’s clothes anymore and wanted to be a boy. We didn’t have a problem with this, but it made me conscious that I didn’t want her to be labelled, put in a box, at school, by friends, anywhere. I realised I had let myself be put in boxes, my working-class Cockney background, being female, being fat. To lay a path for my daughter, and my son, I had to be brave enough to face my own boxes and, through storytelling, show the impact boxes have when we let ourselves be constrained by them.

Photo by Sonja Horsman

Tea makes several appearances in the show as a symbol of comfort, habit and reflection. Why did it feel important to weave that in?

You said it in one. Tea is a cure for everything, feel happy, have tea; feel sad, have tea; shocking news, tea with extra sugar; gossip with friends, make a cuppa. My show is designed to feel like an intimate conversation with a friend, you’re invited into my space, my world, full of joy and sadness, and the only way to punctuate these stories is with tea. I also love tea, so I’m quite happy to drink it throughout the performance, as long as it’s milk in first.

You co-wrote the show with Leonie Simmons and worked closely with director Daniel Brennan. How did those creative partnerships help you shape and sharpen such a personal narrative?

I met Leonie at a stand-up comedy course in 2017. I was looking to expand my career, and she was there out of interest. We did some writing together, and one day I said, ‘I’d like to do a one-woman show.’ Next thing you know, she’s booked the Hen and Chickens for Camden Fringe and said, ‘I’ve got the space, now you have to write it.’ We chatted a lot, drank tea, I wrote, and she’d say, ‘what about this, what about that.’

I’ve known Daniel since 2007, and I adore him. He knows how to bring out the best in me and lets me explore and muck things up in a safe space. I trust him, and I can challenge him on things that don’t feel right. He does get frustrated with my dancing out of time.

If you could step back into 1982 and whisper one piece of advice to your younger self, that ‘fat East End girl’ watching Top of the Pops, what would you tell her?

Be brave. Don’t worry about what other people think and look after your knees.

I’d love to sit down with my 12-year-old self with a cuppa and have a long chat.

Little Boxes

Written and performed by Joann Condon

Directed by Daniel Brennan

Co written with Leonie Simmons

Edinburgh Festival Fringe

Venue: Space 2 at theSpace on the Mile

Dates: Tuesday 12 August to Saturday 16 August 2025

Time: 17:20

Book Here