Interview: Comedian Sara Pascoe on her new book – Animal: The Autobiography of a Female Body

Comedian Sara Pascoe’s new book combines autobiography with evolutionary history for a frank appraisal of the female body – and all those who look at it. By Ali Schofield

ONLY two minutes and 14 seconds into my interview with Sara Pascoe I ask her the one question no journalist should ever ask a woman in her thirties: “Do you want children?”


I am chatting to the stand-up comedian, actor and writer in the dimly-lit bar of the Leadmill in Sheffield before she goes on stage.

Her first book, Animal: The Autobiography of a Female Body, is a disarmingly frank look at evolutionary biology in relation to her own life.

Pascoe writes honestly about sex, messy menstruation experiences, low body-esteem, the abortion she had aged 16 and the polycystic ovary syndrome that could affect her chances of becoming pregnant. 


She said she learned a lot about herself writing the book. “I did a job yesterday and the makeup artist was listening to the audiobook and she said: ‘I’m just at the bit about you wanting to have babies.’ And I was like: ‘I know, I think I’ve really changed my mind since then, again’.”

Do you want children?

“Well, now I feel very like I’m OK if I never have children, whereas at the time I was writing I think that idea made me feel really sad. Something kind of happened – maybe you just adjust.”

Of course, there is always adoption. “That’s my backup. If I ever start to freak out about it there are all these children that you can just get for free!”

Pascoe, who lives with fellow comedian John Robins in Lewisham, has also changed her mind about the plan she had to go into politics in her 40s.

“We do fundraisers for Jeremy Corbyn and the closer I’ve got to what politicians’ lives are like the more I’ve realised you can’t do anything. It’s all compromising. You can’t be idealistic. You can’t say: ‘But hey, guys, I just don’t think we should war any more, high five?!’ They’re like: ‘What? What do you mean no one should go to war?’

She said the mainstream media manufactures outrage over something like Corbyn not singing the national anthem when in fact the number of people genuinely offended is “probably one man”.

“For me, Jeremy Corbyn is like Princess Diana. No matter what he does it will sell papers. All of that stuff is entertainment. We pick them up so we can have a reaction to it, like you watch reality TV to hate and love certain characters.”

Advertising is a subject ripe for comedic criticism in Pascoe’s book. Normalised behaviour that crumbles on closer inspection includes breast enlargement, expensive cellulite creams, so-called feminine hygiene products and special razors to remove body hair so unsightly that the adverts don’t even show it. I admit to her that the absurdity of this last one I hadn’t even noticed until reading the book.  

“But of course we don’t question it because when it’s everywhere all the time why would you? You go: ‘Oh, that’s normal. Of course you don’t show hair.’ But what? That’s the opposite of advertising! That would be like miming a knife in a knife advert – ‘yeah, it can cut through so great!’ It’s really bizarre.”

Another subject prone to the male gaze is rape. Pascoe writes about the Ched Evans case – which will have to be taken out for the paperback since the case has reopened – and Julian Assange, whose behaviour George Galloway described as “bad sexual etiquette, but… not rape or you bankrupt the term ‘rape’ of all meaning”.

Earlier this month, Stanford University student Brock Turner was handed only a six-month sentence for raping an intoxicated fellow student because the judge was worried about its effect on his promising swimming career.


Pascoe said: “What I find so fascinating is the male judge and the men who are commenting are like: ‘OK, he made a mistake but you can’t let this ruin his life.’ They empathise more with him than they do with the victim because they can imagine themselves doing that kind of thing. That’s the really scary thing.”

Of course, there are many women – and surely men too – who empathise more with the female victim.


“There are so many women who have had a similar experience of being passed out and thinking they were safe and they weren’t, or that kind of thing.” Pascoe said. Sadly, she speaks from experience and outlines two such occasions in the book. I wonder how she frames her experiences now.

She reasons that there is no such thing as non-consensual sex, only rape or sex, but struggles to speak about her own experiences as rape. “I just don’t want to take away from people who have really traumatic experiences.”

She thinks again. “But when it crosses over to not OK that’s what it’s called, so that’s what I should call it.”

Pascoe clearly has a high empathy quotient. She thinks transgender rights are “everyone’s battle”. When I ask what she thought of Germaine Greer’s comment that “just because you lop off your d*** and then wear a dress doesn’t make you a f****** woman”, she said: “She doesn’t understand gender properly is my opinion with Germaine. I say that as someone who loves her. I think there can be no worse place for a woman to be in prison than in her own body.”  

Likewise her veganism – “For me, animals just feel like people. So when someone’s like ‘Oh, a cat got run over’ I think that’s as sad as someone going ‘Oh, my daughter got run over’.” And later that night she actually apologises to a heckler in case she hurt her feelings. Another heckler who shouted “phwoar” hilariously didn’t get off so lightly.

Read the full version of this feature in the Big Issue North. Sara Pascoe plays the Lowry, Salford, tonight (Saturday June 25), and Harrogate Theatre, 30 June.

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