What’s Emily Markoe afraid of? Not of pain, nor failure, nor monsters lurking in the dark – but of something her own body might do to her, at almost any time. She lives with emetophobia, a fear of vomit, and that condition forms the foundation for this quirkily comic yet informative show.

Markoe’s on-stage persona is likeable and determined, but deeply nervous too. Her fear is illogical, of course, as all phobias are – a truth Markoe leans into, and at times exploits for comedy. The funny-but-serious tone is set with an over-elaborate audience briefing, and continues as she reveals her “therapist” – a My Little Pony toy which challenges her to confront her fear.

In a series of vignettes, we learn how her fretful mind can divert almost any activity to the topic of digestive health: whether it’s humorously subverting a meditation session, or involving us all in a game of “Simon says” that proves rather darker than it seems. And she successfully draws us into more serious and thought-provoking scenes, particularly when she talks about her struggle to eat well or the legitimately scary time a bout of food poisoning took an almost existential turn.

The pieces don’t slot together quite as neatly as they could do: the framing story, that she’s sorting through detritus from her childhood bedroom, still has the air of a miscellany. And a couple of the sketches have odd embellishments. Most notably, a scene told in the bright-eyed style of a fairy story raises the long generational shadow of childhood abuse – a Pandora’s box of a topic that’s unexpectedly cracked open, and then never referred to again.

But Markoe does convey an inkling of what it’s like to live with this particular fear, of how your whole environment could conspire to remind you of the one thing you most want to forget. She’s at pains to stress – and I’m happy to confirm – that nothing resembling vomit will appear in the show, but the power of association was still enough to make me queasy. An empty bin at the corner of the stage comes to feel dangerously suggestive.

For what it’s worth, I have a specific phobia myself – I’m afraid of heights – and though the details are obviously very different, I appreciated seeing elements of my own experience spelled out on stage. This charming show might not tackle the most instantly-appealing of topics, but you’re sure to gain insights… not only into Markoe’s life, but into a group of conditions that are often dramatized but rarely truly explained.