Baby Reindeer

by Richard Gadd

  . . .

  Gadd My stalker is a seasoned pro.

  . . .

  Martha Email Such a fked up dream yyesterday. You were on all fours bonking s a lAdy about sixty, telling her you love her. I hated it. Horriblle. Sent from mmy Phone

  Act Two

  Scene One

  Gadd Uh, I would like to – report something. How does it work?

  Policeman What would you like to report?

  . . .

  Gadd Right. Well. I don’t know how to tell you this, but, uh, I’m getting stalked –

  Policeman By a man or a woman?

  Gadd A woman.

  Policeman And have you had a sexual relationship with this woman?

  Gadd No. I haven’t. She’s twice my age.

  Policeman Age is generally not a factor we consider.

  Gadd No, of course. I can assure you though – she latched on to me and that was it.

  Policeman ‘Stalked’, how?

  Gadd She comes to my work, to my shows.

  Policeman Shows?

  Gadd Yeah, like comedy.

  Policeman Stand-up?

  Gadd No, theatre I suppose.

  Policeman Is it comedy or theatre?

  Gadd Don’t you start!

  . . .

  Policeman What specifically is concerning you about her behaviour?

  . . .

  Gadd Martha had started turning up to all of my gigs. Every one. If a gig got put up on Twitter, she would be there. When she turned up to a gig in Cheltenham, that’s when I really started to worry.

  . . .

  Gadd She wasn’t just sitting and watching, she was heckling too. I have this routine where I play flashbacks to a break-up over the top of a Sinead O’Connor track. But every time it played, she would heckle with –

  Martha Sinead O’Connor doesn’t get on with Miley Cyrus, you know.

  Gadd She just sort of says it – and it derails the whole gig. One time, to combat her heckling, I told the audience, as a joke –

  Ladies and gentlemen, this is Martha, my stalker. Say hello to Martha everyone!

  Audience Hello, Martha!

  . . .

  Gadd And she springs to her feet – spitting this venom towards the stage –

  Martha Don’t you say that to me! I’m here to enjoy a comedy show and you’re shite really! I’ve never seen it go well! Two-bit fucking actor type! Honestly, there’s nothing to it! Nothing! Chances are you’ll be pulling pints for a long time! It’s embarrassing! It’s embarrassing!

  . . .

  Policeman I understand this is frustrating, but heckling is not a crime, Mr Gadd –

  Gadd Well, it fucking should be!

  . . .

  Policeman Look, I’m not getting any reason to feel your life is in danger. Are you scared of her?

  . . .

  Gadd I felt like there is a string in my chest, which pulls my oesophagus down into my belly every time I think of her. I feel her on my skin, in my peripheries in public. Like she is tapping me. Constantly, even when she’s not there.

  . . .

  Gadd It’s busy tubes, crowded buses, populated crowds, populated Canonbury, it is being in a cramped place where I physically cannot turn around where she prods me the most. Where I am squashed in with a whole bunch of other people. Then this insidious hand slips through the crowd with a scalpel or a knife or a broken bottle and stabs me in my lower back.

  . . .

  Gadd No, I’m not scared of her.

  . . .

  Policeman Can you give me a sense of anything else she is doing?

  Gadd She sends me emails. Like, all the time.

  Policeman How many?

  Gadd Fourteen thousand emails in the past year, perhaps.

  Policeman Fourteen thousand emails?

  Gadd Yes.

  Policeman Fourteen thousand?!

  Gadd Yes!

  . . .

  Policeman Are any threatening towards you?

  Gadd Oh, I’m sure. Let me find one. I mean, look how often she emails me for starts?! Here, let me just open a random one –

  . . .

  Martha Email I just watched Shawshank.

  . . .

  Gadd It’s perhaps not the best example. How about this one?

  . . .

  Martha Email I just had a sandwich.

  . . .

  Policeman They’re not particularly threatening.

  Gadd They’re in here somewhere, I just need to – I mean – look her up on Google – look her up! It’s scary shit! Reams of information online.

  Policeman What kind of police officer would I be if I filed reports off of Google?

  . . .

  Gadd I’m really worried here. I think she needs help.

  . . .

  Policeman How long has it been going on for?

  Gadd A year and a half, maybe.

  Policeman A year and a half and you’re only reporting it now?

  Gadd Yes.

  Policeman Why did it take you so long?

  . . .

  Gadd The truth is I took so long because I couldn’t stand the irony of reporting her but not him. There was always a sense that she didn’t operate within the parameters of social understanding – that she was mentally ill, that she couldn’t help it – whereas he was a pernicious, manipulative groomer.

  . . .

  Gadd I imagined a policeman asking me this very question – and it would all just come flooding up in one seismic breakdown. To admit to her was to admit to him. And I haven’t admitted him to anyone yet.

  . . .

  Gadd Martha was woven into the fabric of my deepest secrets. Wielding a control over me even she – herself – wasn’t aware she had.

  . . .

  Gadd So when the policeman asks –

  Policeman Why did it take you so long to report it?

  . . .

  Gadd I don’t know.

  . . .

  Policeman Go home, look through her messages – and when you find one of significance, come back.

  . . .

  Policeman Don’t engage with her and don’t let her get your number – until then, we can’t stop her going to a public place. Even one you’re performing at.

  . . .

  Gadd He motions for the next person to come forward and, just like that, it was over.

  . . .

  Gadd Fourteen thousand emails within the space of a year and a half wasn’t evidence to him. He needed something more tangible than abundance.

  . . .

  Martha Email Here’s the toss of the coign for me, if you mention my names in a poclice station and I get wrapped for that, that is not good enough. Bcaus rumours in a town of morons are the death of professionals like me. That’s like me gogin to the head of comedy, the head of BAFTA, or whatever, and making waves for you professionally and believe me I could have went an made waves.

  Scene Two

  Gadd It’s my birthday. Three cards arrive that morning and a flight brochure. I upload a tweet to Twitter saying I’ll add the flight brochure to the pile and make it look like I have four birthday cards that year. Fifty likes. Yes please.

  . . .

  Gadd I am off to Brighton to perform my new show Breaking Gadd at the Brighton Comedy Festival and Teri suggests she come with me.

  . . .

  Gadd Fear grips me instantly at the suggestion.

  . . .

  By this point, Teri and I were a fully-fledged couple. Things that would have made me baulk six months ago, I had started doing with her. Going for meals. Heading into town. I avoided Holloway, still – but we were progressing, together.

  . . .

  Gadd It wasn’t easy, but I felt galvanised by a willingness to make change.

  . . .

  Gadd I imagined what it must be like to be fearless like her. It’s the most attractive personality trait around, isn’t it? Fearlessness. It’s sexy as fuck.

  . . .

  Gadd But coming to my
show in Brighton. It all felt too much. Comedy is my world. Comedy is where people know me, they know the normative me – I’m not ready for this –

  . . .

  Gadd I want to go by myself. Okay?

  . . .

  Gadd Teri gives me a knowing look. We’ve been here countless times before.

  . . .

  Gadd Even though she was constantly telling me how much I needed to accept my gay side, conversely she hated it when I acted like our relationship was anything outside of heteronormative.

  . . .

  Gadd She always called me out on my bullshit. When I felt ashamed, or paranoid. When I looked around too much. Walked with my hands in my pockets – or with my hood up. I knew exactly how this was going to play out.

  . . .

  Gadd I would give in pretending and tell her – ‘Look, I’m sorry, I just need to take things slowly’ – and she would tell me how my actions further contribute to trans-shame – but this time she just looks back at me and says –

  Teri But it’s your birthday?

  . . .

  Gadd I have never seen her look like that before, suddenly vulnerable.

  . . .

  Gadd Back when Teri and I met online, we would talk for hours on Skype about the amount of men she has been with in the past who were too ashamed to go out in public with her – who only met in hotel rooms on the edges of town –

  . . .

  Gadd ‘Ridiculous. Ridiculous behaviour’ – I said. ‘I would never do that’.

  . . .

  Gadd I hated how even Skype felt like it was despairing with me sometimes.

  . . .

  Gadd She had been kept under lock and key in her past relationships and morally I just wasn’t going to do that, but in this moment I wanted nothing more than to keep her under lock and key.

  . . .

  Gadd Martha gave me that lock and key.

  . . .

  Gadd Look – it’s not you. Sorry, I’m stressed. Things with Martha are heating up. It’s pretty bad. But I think, we should probably, keep this on the down low, for now. Obviously fuck knows what she would do if she found out about you.

  . . .

  Teri Are you serious?

  Gadd Yes. She’ll be at the gig. She always is. We only have to do this until it blows over.

  Teri No, sure. Whatever you want.

  . . .

  Gadd I am in Brighton, backstage, feeling fucking terrible about lying to Teri. The show I am about to do is a chaotic manifestation of my life at this point. Misery upon misery, compiled by a brain void of structure, and it starts with me coming onto the stage, dressed as a mattress and dancing to ‘Agado’ in what might be the most off-putting opening to a show ever conceived.

  . . .

  Gadd If people went with it, I would have a good show. If I was greeted with a perplexed apathy – I would be in for the longest hour of my life.

  . . .

  Gadd So I have travelled to Brighton, on my birthday, having alienated my girlfriend, and was now backstage, dressed in a mattress, about to perform to seven people, when my phone rings. It’s my landlady. She never calls.

  Beattie Hi, Gadd, happy birthday.

  Gadd Thanks, Beattie.

  Beattie Look, there’s a woman here for you.

  Gadd Okay.

  Beattie Says she’s your lawyer?

  Scene Three

  Martha Email ur a clever one but don’t be putting all that info on facebooks and twitters, fmily addrssses, members of family without consent. Don’t post anything that could cbome back to you. Words wridetten down can be distroeted in any number of ways. I’ve gotta go.

  . . .

  Gadd I have made some stupid fucking mistakes in my life but uploading my address to Twitter has to be up there with the stupidest.

  . . .

  Gadd That night I get the train back to London. It’s a tube then a bus journey back to where I live from anywhere central. When I get back, I see her – sitting outside a pub on the corner of my road.

  . . .

  Gadd It was almost midnight – and she’s sitting at a pub on the corner of my road. My stalker. Is sitting. At a pub. On the corner of my road. Not on her phone. Staring. It was a cold night. Has she been there all evening?

  . . .

  Gadd I’m going to go over and talk to her. Reason with her. Tell her – in the kindest way – that she cannot come here again. Not to this pub. Not to this street. Certainly not to the house.

  . . .

  Gadd Martha – you have to leave.

  . . .

  Martha I’m a paying customer! I can sit here! How dare you insinuate mixed intentions!

  . . .

  Gadd Keep it light. Keep it light. Don’t let the situation devolve.

  . . .

  Gadd I’m sorry – I shouldn’t have said that, but I feel you’re here because my house is one hundred yards away.

  Martha You live next to my friend.

  Gadd Then why are you here and not next door at your friend’s?

  . . .

  Gadd She just stayed silent.

  . . .

  Gadd Please, Martha, you have to leave. Don’t do this –

  . . .

  Martha What’s wrong, baby reindeer?

  Gadd Stop calling me that! It’s weird!

  Martha What’s wrong? You can tell me?

  Gadd I can’t believe it. You have no idea do you?

  . . .

  Gadd You. Martha. You’re what’s wrong.

  Martha What’s wrong? What do you need? Tell me, tell me, tell me –

  Gadd Space!

  Martha Space? From – me? From – us?!

  Gadd What are you talking about?! There is no ‘us’.

  Martha What’s wrong, baby reindeer?! What’s wrong?

  . . .

  Gadd It’s amazing. I can say anything to you, can’t I, and you will just pick and choose the bits you want to hear? Staring at me like I am about to reveal a secret torment right now that could be anything but you sitting at the end of my road.

  . . .

  Gadd I think back to when I first met you and how much I felt sorry for you and how much I hated feeling that way – but now, grief, rather than empathy, as I watch you, staring at me. Hopeful. Childish. Like all my standoffish behaviour is about to be explained. And I realise. You believe it. You believe I’m your boyfriend. You utterly believe it.

  . . .

  Martha What’s wrong? What’s wrong –?

  . . .

  Gadd Martha – I’m breaking up with you.

  Martha What?

  Gadd I’m breaking up with you.

  . . .

  Gadd Obviously this means, we can’t see each other anymore.

  . . .

  Gadd Instead of trying to make her see the reality of things – as they were – my reality of things – I conform to her reality of things.

  . . .

  Gadd She looks up. Nods. Then returns to this confused internal processing. Buying into her delusion made her buy into my disinterest.

  . . .

  Gadd I left her there, stuck in tableaux – processing things. Stood up and walked home.

  . . .

  Landlady Interview Eventually Gadd did tell me, you know, well, almost the full extent of it – and my gut reaction was – well, you’ve got to go to the police – well, maybe I was scared for myself – I was living with my daughter, she’d just had a child – but Gadd said it was futile, he had already done it, nothing had been done – and so at that point, I said, to be honest, I think you’ve got to move out.

  Scene Four

  Gadd I felt awful bringing all this shit to my landlady’s door. Embarrassed, even, at the extent it was affecting my life. My spineless unwillingness to do anything about it.

  . . .

  Gadd Beattie was understanding about the whole thing which only made my guilt worse, though she did say to me as I piled my boxes into the back of my mate’s Fiat
Punto –

  Beattie Do you think you’re addicted to chaos, Gadd? . . .

  Gadd I moved to Parkway, Camden, off a tip-off from a mate who swore to me I would be living with the best people, in the best place, with the best quality of life one could ask for. A fresh start. Anonymity. Again.

  . . .

  Gadd And so two days later, I dropped my bags off at the flat I had just agreed to move into for a year. It was damp, messy, shit everywhere, music blaring, and people just seemed to be around constantly. Drink and drugs, all the time. I am not sure I ever slept.

  . . .

  Gadd I would work ten hours, finish at 3 a.m. and then get back to the flat to find they had just begun.

  . . .

  Gadd I would enter, assume a facade that the party was totally fine, kick whoever was in my room out, and lie back on the bed and stare at the ceiling as the heat rose through the floor and the walls pounded with the shittest, fucking music known to man, and feel utterly overcome –

  . . .

  Gadd – with how I much I hated her.

  . . .

  Martha Email do you have a girlfriend? these are the question I ask everyday, it would trily destroy me though makes sense, your bhevaiour is that you would have one, needd to know, I’ve gotta go.

  Scene Five

  Gadd The image of Teri standing in the doorway saying, ‘But it’s your birthday’, with such disappointment, haunted me. I didn’t want to hurt her anymore.

  . . .

  Gadd So, after months and months of slowly, but surely – tonight, I invite Teri to my show – Breaking Gadd – at the Soho Theatre. Tonight I invite her into my world. And I was ready this time.

  . . .

  Gadd It was the second last night of a three-week run in a venue packed to the brim with one hundred – seats – and ten people. I could see Teri sat two rows from the front.

  . . .

  Gadd One row in front of her sat Martha.

  . . .

  Martha Voicemail *Laugh.*

  . . .

  Gadd She’s here.

  . . .

  Gadd I walk down the stairs of the Soho Theatre post-show with Teri, three spiral staircases, and at the bottom, Martha.

  . . .

  Gadd Martha. You’ve got to go. You’ve got to go. Now. Okay?

  Martha I can be here if I want.

  Gadd Please, Martha, just this once, go home –