“Are modesty and self-deprecation female conditioning, or the female condition?
45 years ago, playwriting legend Arnold Wesker (Roots, Chips With Everything) wrote Annie Wobbler especially for his friend, Olivier Award winner Nichola McAuliffe, in a critically acclaimed production which transferred to the West End.
Now, nearly half a century later, she returns to reinhabit Wesker’s characters in a joyful, humorous yet profound study of three very different women – and their Imposter Syndrome.”
Annie Wobbler (Revisited) will play at this year’s Edinburgh Fringe before transferring to London’s Finborough Theatre (2-26 Sep 2026). Nichola and I discussed the play and its contemporary context on a Zoom call.
Where: Ace Dome at Pleasance Dome
When: 5-31 Aug (not 17 or 18)
Ticket link: https://www.edfringe.com/tickets/whats-on/annie-wobbler-revisited
Tell me about the show. It was written for you more than 40 years ago, wasn’t it?
It was, yes. I first did it 43 years ago at Birmingham Rep, then at the New End in Hampstead and later at the Fortune Theatre. I think it was the last show there before The Woman in Black.
Arnold Wesker wrote it for me after a previous play he’d written specifically for me ended up being cast without me. He was absolutely furious. He decided he’d write another play and wouldn’t let anyone stage it unless I was in it. That’s the sort of man Arnold was. Loyal to a fault.
At the time, I think it was written partly to show off my versatility as an actor. Looking back now, though, I don’t think any of us really analysed what Arnold was actually saying about women. We just got on and did it. Revisiting it all these years later, I’ve realised there’s far more depth there than perhaps we appreciated at the time.
The play feels oddly more relevant now than it did then. Society has changed enormously, and so have the conversations we’re having about women, ageing, identity and how we navigate the world. What’s fascinating is that Arnold was already touching on many of those themes decades ago.
How different is it approaching the play now?
I’m a better actor. That’s the honest answer.
When you’re younger, even if you don’t realise it, there’s a part of you that’s showing people what you can do. You want them to come out saying, “Wasn’t she clever?” Now I couldn’t care less about that. What interests me is the character.
I want audiences to come out feeling they’ve walked a mile in these women’s shoes rather than admiring how neatly I’ve switched from one role to another.
The three characters represent very different women. One is a recent graduate, one is a successful novelist, and one is an elderly woman who may or may not be experiencing some form of dementia. Over the years, I’ve become much more interested in their humanity than in the mechanics of playing them.
I’ve also changed the order. Arnold always objected when I suggested it, but his widow, Dusty, has been marvellous. She basically said, “It’s yours now, do what you want.” So I’ve rearranged the characters into a more natural progression through life, and I think it works beautifully.
Is that why the play feels more contemporary now?
Partly. I’ve updated some of the characters because the world they inhabit has changed. The assumptions women make, the anxieties they carry and the conversations they’re having are very different now.
But I haven’t rewritten Arnold. That’s important. What I’ve discovered is that what he was saying all those years ago still resonates. If anything, audiences are more equipped to hear it now.
You’re very passionate about not talking about the ages of actresses.
I really do object to the obsession with age, particularly where women are concerned. There is still tremendous age prejudice in our industry, and the minute you attach a number to somebody, people start making assumptions.
What matters is whether somebody can play a role. That’s what audiences care about. Nobody comes out of a theatre saying, “Well, she was exactly the right age.” They come out saying, “I believed her.” That’s what counts.
How would you sell the show to an audience in one sentence?
If you want a good laugh and something to think about afterwards, come and see it. People hear that it’s about women and immediately assume it’s going to be some sort of lecture. It isn’t. It’s funny. Very funny. It’s not male-bashing. It’s not tub-thumping. It’s simply three very different women looking at life from different perspectives.
And it’s short. You’ll be in the bar within about 90 minutes, which I think is a recommendation in itself.
The play inevitably touches on how society has changed. Do you think younger people have a harder time today?
In some ways, yes. I feel particularly sorry for young people who are constantly terrified of getting something wrong. Everyone seems to be walking on eggshells.
Now, some changes have undoubtedly been for the better. I’m not suggesting otherwise. But I do think we’ve lost some of the ease that people once had with one another.
Young men in particular are navigating a very confusing world. They’re being told all sorts of contradictory things about how they should behave, who they should be and what they’re allowed to say. No wonder so many of them seem bewildered or attracted to Andrew Tate rhetoric.
You’re taking the show to Edinburgh. What keeps drawing you back to the Fringe?
It reminds you why you became an actor. The profession can be incredibly frustrating these days. Everything seems to involve self-tapes, celebrity casting and endless hoops to jump through. Sometimes it feels as though nobody quite knows what they’re looking for. Then you go to Edinburgh and remember what it’s all about.
You’re surrounded by people who genuinely love theatre. They’re there because they care about performance and storytelling. I’ve been going up there since the early 1980s. I’ve had my own plays performed there and transferred elsewhere afterwards. It’s been enormously important to me. Every time I go back, it recharges the batteries.
Has the Fringe changed over the years?
There was a period when I worried that comedy had almost completely taken over and that there wasn’t much room left for straight theatre. But I think the balance is beginning to return.
There’s a real appetite again for drama, for stories, for people standing on stage and taking audiences somewhere unexpected. That’s very encouraging.
One thing that comes across very strongly is your affection for Arnold Wesker.
I adored Arnold. I think he’s become rather neglected in this country, and that’s a great shame.
People know Harold Pinter, and rightly so, but Arnold Wesker was every bit as important in his own way. He wrote from life. He wrote about ordinary people and their experiences with enormous warmth and intelligence.
If you’re new to his work, I’d always recommend starting with Chicken Soup with Barley, Roots, and I’m Talking About Jerusalem. They’re extraordinary plays. To write one great play is remarkable. Arnold wrote several.
Part of the reason I’m doing this production is because I want people to remember him. Playwrights shouldn’t simply disappear because fashions change. And Annie Wobbler, it’s a lovely play. It’s funny, moving and thoughtful. What more can you ask for from a night at the theatre?