Humour is a hit or miss thing. This one missed for me by a long way.
The first hour is a (long, long, can she STILL be talking about this?) lament about the state of this middle-class white woman’s life.
She’s thirty-nine (how terrible is that?), is married to a man who no longer excites her (or really sees her), has a part-time job that bores her, has young children that she can neither support nor control and has to face the coven of yummy mummies at the school gate who are mean to her. Faced with this deep angst, she responds with snidey wit, ineffective longing and diving into alcohol each evening.
I can see this could be sad in that special-problems-only-middle-class-people-have sort of way but I don’t see it as funny.
Maybe what I hear as the not-grown-up-yet, I-was-meant-to-be-special lament of a middle-aged middle-class woman is really a poignant crie de coeur from a desperate woman, fending off existential panic with humour.
If it is, I don’t care.
This is not a woman I want to spend another ten hours listening to.
So, into the Life’s Too Short box it goes.