EdFringe Review: You and Me (and Whoever Comes Next)

The core dilemma of paid personal care lies in a basic asymmetry: for the carer, it is a job; for the employer, it is their life. Produced by Patch of Blue—the company behind 2022’s acclaimed Fringe hit Cassie and the Lights—You and Me (and Whoever Comes Next) explores this dynamic through the real experiences of disabled writer and actor Keron Day. Living with cerebral palsy and requiring 24-hour support, Day co-wrote the piece with Helen Chong and director and former care worker Alex Howarth.

The play dramatises Day’s relationship with a new live-in Personal Assistant, Dani (Lauren Koster), tracking how a professional contract blurs into emotional co-dependence; based on real, lived experience, all names and identifying details have been altered.

Howarth’s production balances sharp-edged comedy with a clear narrative structure. Day is a direct, engaging lead, using dry wit to catalogue past carers—multi-roled with versatile aplomb by actor-musician Martha Walker—who range from overbearing intruders to aloof clock-watchers.

Day is equally unsentimental about himself. Recognising Dani as the first carer he has truly connected with in years, he recalls a desperate need to be the “easy,” fun client—feigning interest in her hobbies to keep her happy and prevent another departure. The rose-tinted glasses are definitely cast aside, whether for Dani, for his own flawed choices, or even for friends who mean well, but fail to appreciate the practicalities of his life. These practicalities are woven into the bones of the show, as performers step out of character to check on each other’s well-being from time to time.

The Friction of Paid Personal Care

The script’s real strength is its refusal to sanitise the relationship. The bond between Keron and Dani resembles a courtship in its intensity, yet remains undercut by a wage. That transactional structure creates friction on both sides: Dani relies on Keron for income, while Keron depends on Dani for basic daily tasks.

“The rose-tinted glasses are definitely cast aside, whether for Dani, for his own flawed choices, or even for friends who mean well, but fail to appreciate the practicalities of his life.“

When personal difficulties disrupt Dani’s work, the fragility of the setup becomes clear. Yet, at no point does the play sink into identifying easy villains—Day feels Dani’s imperfections more because of her heart, care, and practicality when not distracted by a presumably horrible private life. Everyone is a victim of an underfunded social care system which forces both carer and client into precarious positions.

That emotional complexity is heightened further by the show’s score. Performed live on stage by composer Merle Powell-Smith alongside Walker, the blend of acoustic folk instrumentals and gentle harmonies provides something like an emotional barometer.

While the sound mix occasionally competes with spoken dialogue and a few secondary figures lean toward caricature, the central relationship remains on solid ground. Day presents care not as noble charity, but as a messy, high-stakes human necessity. You and Me (and Whoever Comes Next) delivers its argument with clarity, humour, and sharp observational detail. Better care, it says, begins with a society that remembers to care for each other—it’s hard to disagree.