The Tralee native has over 500k followers on social media and is touring Ireland and the UK with This Is All Too Much – the stage show she created with Olga Thompson
Tell us where your love of musical theatre began
“My love of musical theatre began in true showbiz style – as a gosling in Mother Goose with the local Musical Society. Tralee in the 80s couldn’t get enough of a gaggle of kids in fuzzy yellow costumes, honking their way through the chorus. I was blissfully unaware that I looked like a feathered footstool, but apparently the crowd loved it. And like any good theatre kid – once I heard the applause, I came back for more!”
When did you know you wanted to take it more seriously and make it a career?
“In my early teens, I galloped full tilt into a horse phase – majestic creatures, really, though their favourite hobby seemed to be launching me into nettles and strategically placed piles of poo. Eventually, I trotted back to my first love: musical theatre. Confidence-wise, I was operating at levels lower than a boom boy’s car suspension. But thanks to the wild optimism of local legends in Tralee Musical Society and the teachers at The Kerry School of Music – who kept casting me and gently nudging me toward incredible teachers like Veronica Dunne – I found the sheer audacity to believe I could make a career out of this insanity.”
What was the move to London like?
“Luckily for me, I eased into London adulthood life via the scenic route: Liverpool – where I studied Acting at Paul McCartney’s Liverpool Institute for Performing Arts. Liverpool was the soft launch of reality, a warm-up act before the headline horror of London living, where six of us genuinely believed we’d find a house for £400 a month. Adorable. The universe clearly took pity on our optimism, though, because just six months into the London hustle, I booked my first job: the UK and European Tour of Disney’s Beauty and the Beast. It was magical. There was glitter. There were ballgowns. There was a per diem. I peaked early.”
You’re very honest about the everyday struggles of being a mother. What were the first couple of years like for you?
“The first few years of motherhood felt like being dropkicked into a never-ending Premier League match where I was somehow playing goalie, striker, and manager – while also making snacks and wiping mysterious substances off the bench – and there’s no subs. It was beautiful chaos: cuteness, relentless tasks and utterly exhausting, with no pause button and zero time to zoom out and appreciate it. Now that my kids are 6 and 9, I’m still tired, but now it’s more of a ‘forgot-where-I-put-my-coffee’ tired rather than a ‘forgot-my-own-name’ tired. And with that comes 20/20 vision of how good we have it. They always say ‘it gets easier,’ but fail to mention when or how! Sometimes ‘easier’ just means fewer nappies and more negotiating over screen time and sometimes ‘easier’ means you’ve managed to watch a whole movie together without getting up. I’m in that sweet spot now – pre-tween drama, post-toddler chaos – and it’s glorious. Roll on the tween attitude and smelly feet!”
Parenting is different for everyone but there are universal truths. How did you feel about ‘social media momfluencers’ when you became a mother?
“Personally, I adored them – my algorithmic village of internet moms. I curated my feed: half real-talking warriors confessing to hiding in the bathroom just to eat a snack in peace, and half serene goddesses whose homes looked like an IKEA catalogue and whose children apparently never screamed in public. I loved the honesty – the raw, sleep-deprived truth about motherhood that our own mothers were never allowed to say out loud. But I also appreciated the fantasy. Sure look, I knew there were avalanches of washing baskets just out of frame, but gazing at their spotless kitchens gave me peace away from my own LEGO piles and biscuit-crusted chaos.”
You write original lyrics to well-known songs, do skits, voiceovers, and reels about parenting. What’s involved in creating these videos?
The idea always comes first – and it can strike from anywhere: a rant to a friend, a scroll through someone else’s online genius, a song that’s set up squatters’ rights in my brain, or even the divine comedy that is my husband’s holey underpants. I’ve got ADHD, which means planning is more of a suggestion than a system – unless someone else is in charge, in which case I’m suddenly the CEO of productivity.
“But when left to my own devices? God only knows what it’ll be. One day I’m writing songs, the next belting parodies or on a soapbox mid-rant, and sometimes I’m just here for the craic and chaos. In recent times so much of my content has been about banishing my low self esteem back to the grave as it tries to rise like a budget horror villain. I started writing ferocious, no-escape, TED-Talk-meets-wrestling-promo speeches… for myself. The kind that drag you out of the mirror and into your power, even if your thighs are clapping like it’s opening night on Broadway. I thought, if they worked for me, they might just work for someone else too. So I’ve been putting them out to the world in the hopes we can all feel even a tiny bit better about ourselves!
What does your family in Ireland think of your online content?
“I honestly don’t think my family has the faintest idea what I actually do. I could tell them I was a digital goat herder and they’d nod politely and ask if it comes with health insurance. My mom and sister did come see my show in Dublin recently, which helped – suddenly the daily chaos I post online had context, and fewer follow-up questions. My mom even gets recognised from my stories now. She hasn’t blagged a free car service yet, but she’s out there manifesting hard. As for my dad, he’s coming to see the show when I bring it to Tralee on June 5th. I’m not entirely sure he’s prepared for the full uncensored tour through dating disasters, post-kid identity crises, and my Lycra-fuelled war on bikini shame. But sure if he survives Act One, I’ll buy him a Jameson.”
How do you deal with social media trolls?
“Block, block, block, block, block! It’s practically a cardio workout at this point. To be fair, I don’t get many trolls (touch wood, throw salt, spin three times), and the ones I do get, I treat like uninvited guests at a dinner party – smile, thank them for the attention, delete their nonsense, block them into the digital abyss, and carry on sipping my metaphorical wine.
Occasionally I am tempted to clap back, but honestly? I tell myself: take a deep breath, pick your battles, protect your peace, and block like it’s your toxic ex on New Year’s Eve.”
Where did you meet Olga Thompson and how did your business partnership come about?
“One of the absolute best parts of working in social media is the friendships I’ve made along the way. I’d been following Olga for a while, mostly thinking, “This woman is gloriously insane,” and naturally, I adored her. I was buzzing when I spotted a story location tag and realised she lived practically down the road.
“We met for a coffee, hit it off like two Prosecco-fuelled cousins at a wedding, and that was that. What started as the odd cuppa and chaotic video turned into full-blown collaboration. Now, we’re touring the UK together like some kind of slightly feral Ant and Dec. I do Act One, she does Act Two, and together we’ve created a show that feels like a joyful, sequinned fever dream. It’s a partnership forged in memes, voice notes, and mutual love of nonsense – a match made in algorithmic heaven.”
Tell us about your show This Is All Too Much
“Our show is a riotous rallying cry for every woman who’s ever forgotten why she walked into a room, hidden in the loo for a moment of peace, or Googled, “is rage a perimenopause symptom or is it just Tuesday?” It’s about tackling motherhood and perimenopausal panic head-on with laugh-out-loud songs, searing honesty, and a shared refusal to fade into the background just because we’ve entered the ‘Beige Bra’ chapter of womanhood.
“Between us, we’re raising five wild boys who think ‘indoor voice’ is a myth, juggling careers, snack schedules, and pelvic floors that cough in italics. And in the midst of that glorious chaos, we somehow found the time (don’t ask us how, we genuinely don’t know) to write a show that will make you laugh till you leak! It’s part comedy, part cabaret, part group therapy – but with better outfits and worse language. We’re not offering answers (we’re still Googling half of them ourselves), but we are offering connection, catharsis, and the kind of belly laughs that remind you: you’re not alone, you’re not broken, and you’re not the only one crying over a dropped fish finger.”
In terms of life and career goals, where would you like to see yourself in five years?
“My goal is to hold a mirror up so women can finally see themselves and be seen. I love performing from my kitchen but if I can sneak the odd tour in there too, that would be amazing.
“My other goal is to rest! Not just physically – but mentally. To finally let my brain exhale and my shoulders drop. To be free from the endless noise of self-criticism, food guilt, and body worry that plagues women (and men) all over. I don’t want every meal to feel like a maths problem or every glance in the mirror to be proof that I’m failing. I want peace – not perfection. I want to reclaim that energy and spend it on joy, connection, and whatever show I’m re-watching for the 10th time. That’s the real goal: to rest, to soften, and to finally just be. And in attempting this for myself, I’d love if other women could finally see themselves too, not through a skinny filter, or the lens of a catalogue from 2005 where everyone’s holding a salad and pretending to be full. No. I’m talking about seeing ourselves in a real mirror, the one that sees your chin hair before you do. The one that knows you haven’t washed your bra this month. That mirror. I want women to look into that mirror and not think, ‘Oh God, I look tired,’ but instead proudly declare, ‘I look like a woman who’s survived 47 mood swings, a child’s meltdown in Tesco, and a bra that’s been trying to garrotte me since 9am and I am grand.’
“Because being seen isn’t just about visibility. It’s about witnessing the full power of a woman doing it all – often with a wedgie.”
