“A one-woman Doctor Strangelove, blending big laughs with even bigger ambition.”

Leigh Douglas — stand-up turned solo performer — brings a bold tonal shift to the Fringe with ROTUS: Receptionist of the United States, a sharp, surreal and surprisingly heartfelt one-woman play. Imagine Veep, The West Wing and 9 to 5 on a triple-shot espresso, filtered through the madness of today’s political climate.

At the centre of it all is blonde, bold Chastity Quirke — an accidental makeup influencer turned everywoman — who somehow climbs the bureaucratic ranks to become the most powerful admin in America: the President’s receptionist. But don’t let the job title fool you. She lets the men think they’re in charge — but Chastity didn’t get here without a touch of skulduggery. Think less “the room where it happens”, more “what’s being whispered just outside that door.”

What sounds like a frothy Legally Blonde or Mean Girls parody, quickly reveals something smarter. Douglas’s script is first-class — packed with footnotes, callbacks, and razor-sharp lines that land somewhere between satire and savagery. It delivers biting observations on office politics, actual politics, women in leadership, and what it means to wield power while remaining unseen.

Douglas plays every character — from flaky aides and emotionally unstable interns to deranged, misogynistic senators — with spot-on American accents that never tip into caricature. It’s a masterclass in commitment and comic timing, and her monologue delivery snaps between farce, satire, and — unexpectedly — emotional gut-punches. One minute she’s burning classified files, the next she’s a pawn in a game of backroom sausage politics.

But it’s that tension — between laughter and something darker — that gives ROTUS its edge. Beneath the slick pacing and snappy dialogue is a genuine rage bubbling under the surface. A commentary on ambition, gender, and the weird in-between roles women are expected to play in systems they didn’t build.

Douglas is a hugely charismatic performer — expressive, grounded, and deft at modulating tone. The play knows when to go big and when to whisper. While the concept occasionally stretches itself, it’s held together by its originality and clarity of voice.

This isn’t stand-up. This is proper Fringe — whip-smart, fearless, and exactly the kind of theatre the festival is known for. Like Doctor Strangelove, you’ll come for the absurd premise and stay for the creeping political horror. There’s even something close to a final solution that Kubrick would be clapping his hands in approval.

A brilliant piece of satire from a serious talent. I wouldn’t be surprised to see ROTUS headed for bigger venues — and awards — very soon.