Foster’s Comedy Award winner Bridget Christie is kooky, cool and safely edgy (she’s probably nicking lads’ mags from offies as you read). She has energy, enthusiasm and genuine anger.

A Bic For Her was a plea for the “cheesy knobs” who say they aren’t feminists to realise the idea is not one to apologise for but to celebrate. Women and men should be treated as equals because, duh, they are equal.

Early on, Christie promised this would not be a lecture but comedy. A deconstruction of Stirling Moss’s belief women did not have the mental aptitude for Formula One was top notch – all vivid imagery, playful acting and creative writing.

That was matched by the titular skit, with Christie whirling around the stage, unable to fathom how the Brontë sisters managed to pen masterpieces without a gender-specific biro created by the creative whizzes at Bic.

She couldn’t keep her promise, mind. By the end, A Bic For Her had become a little weighty. Did we really need, for example, to hear a recording of Malala Yousafzai?

If the 16-year-old who stood up to the Taliban is the serious side of some “new” feminist movement then Christie is the entertaining, fun side. She should stick to it.