History has always belonged to the victors – but Coco The Time-Travelling Tart would like a word. Logging on to meet London’s self-proclaimed “Champagne enthusiast” and historical menace, our Peter Gray was immediately thrown into her gloriously unhinged orbit. Fresh from sold-out gallery tours and 30 million-plus online views, Coco is bringing her chaos Down Under with a scandal-soaked stand-up show that storms through centuries in heels, vandalising the official narrative and asking the truly important questions: How should a girl dress for battle? Is Napoleon worth the hype? And who decided museums had to be quiet?
But just as quickly as she arrives, Coco disappears, and in her place sits her creator, Max Norman. Thoughtful and disarmingly candid, Max explains the freedom he finds behind the wig, describing Coco as a mask that unlocks irreverence, sensuality and boldness. Together, they’re launching a double-pronged cultural attack in Australia: gallery tours by day, stand-up mischief by night. Smart, silly and seductively chaotic, it’s history – but not as you were taught it.
Coco
I love the idea that Coco feels less like a character and more like someone history forgot to write down. At what point did she start to feel inevitable in Max’s world?
What a deep, philosophical opening – great question. History absolutely forgot to credit me. Or perhaps deliberately left me out – I’ve caused quite a few mishaps I’m both guilty about and proud of. Coco really arrived last April. I started walking into the National Portrait Gallery and speaking to strangers. It felt fun. Immediate. Alive.
I’ve seen the videos – watching people not know how to react is amazing.
Exactly. It’s unscripted. I could do this with actors – dreadful people – but the magic is real life. You don’t know what’s going to happen. Sometimes the artwork is sensational, sometimes not. But the real masterpiece is the human next to me.
You storm through history in heels with zero respect for the official narrative. Are you reclaiming history or vandalising it in the most glamorous way possible?
I don’t think I’m trying to reclaim anything, I’m trying to have fun. There are brilliant historians doing revisionist work. I’m interested in joy and irreverence. Museums get treated like temples. But the people in those portraits? They were shagging, scheming, failing, thriving – just like us. The more art makes us feel closer to ourselves, the better.
What’s the most dangerous thing that happens when we stop treating history with reverence?
Wonderful question. But darling, history is chaos and fucking. Once you accept that, you can relax. Everyone’s panicking in 2026. I’ve seen empires rise and fall – it’s normal. The trick is remembering two things: chaos is part of the design, and we each have the power of what I call “fabulous action.” Do your little bit. It might be enough.
Your irreverence is joyful, never cruel. Was that conscious?
No. I can get sassy, cross me in Soho and I’ll let you know, but cruelty isn’t earned in random interactions. Early on I was sharper. But the world doesn’t need more venom. It needs connection.
You look backwards to ask very modern questions – power, gender, joy. Are we progressing, or just changing costumes?
That’s a great question. I think we are progressing, but it’s pendulum-like. For example, I met a gay couple from Riyadh who told me about changes in Saudi Arabia: women driving, initiating divorce. That’s huge. Meanwhile, in other places, we’re regressing. It’s both. Thousands of cultures. Millions of people.
If you could time travel forward instead of back, what would disappoint you? What might you secretly love?
Darling, I have time travelled forward. The Champagne region becomes desert. Devastating. But humans develop gills, and Waterworld turns out to be prophetic. Wooden rafts. Glorious chaos. Kevin Costner vindicated.
Comedy feels like it’s walking a tightrope between fear and freedom right now. How do you navigate that? Do you ever want to fall?
That’s such a great question. That tightrope makes me feel alive. I can’t play safe. If I have a thought, I share it. Not to upset people – just to connect. If the world is terrified, shouldn’t the bare minimum of a comedian be courage? I once ended up chatting with teenage street kids in Soho – completely different worlds – and it was magic. They taught me the lingo. That’s freedom.
Do you have a point where you know you’ve pushed far enough? A kind of internal safe word?
Coco: I have a good vibe check. You don’t need consent to start a conversation, but you do need intuition. If someone’s uncomfortable, you pivot. If they’re hostile – rare – I’m quick in heels. High heels are also weapons, by the way.
You treat history like a party you weren’t invited to – so you broke in anyway. Does that reflect who culture still excludes?
I started walking into galleries and not asking permission to have fun. You can create space anywhere. Or walk into one and take it. Everyone’s welcome on my tours. We will be playing hide and seek in the Tate Modern whether they like it or not.
Is there something you hope history gets wrong about you?
Well, they already got it wrong about the pyramids. They were meant to be basement fetish raves inspired by a Toblerone. I’m not on a grand mission. I’m floaty. Sometimes I just drop a cigarette on Pudding Lane in 1666. Oops.
When you get a laugh, how do you know whether to trust it or interrogate it?
That’s such a good question. There are different laughs. Nervous laughter equals resistance, that’s interesting. Big belly laughs are wonderful, but I’m fascinated by why someone laughs. The other day I joked about death and discovered the woman laughing was a retired funeral director. We ended up discussing her most intense clients. (Her answer: gypsies. Apparently very lavish funerals.) That’s life – and I love learning.
Has Coco ever gotten a laugh that Max disagreed with?
Wonderful question. Men historically need taking down a peg or two. Max has had to get used to that. It’s in service of a higher cause.
What part of your comedy took the longest to trust?
The fundamental belief that I have a right to be here. Everyone starts somewhere. Van Gogh was 27 when he began painting. If he can do it, why can’t you? Put in the work. Don’t give up.
Is there one audience reaction that’s stayed with you most?
That’s such a good question. Perhaps you’ll have to experience it for yourself. Would you like to meet Max?
Max
I actually had questions for Coco and questions for Max, so I appreciate the dual access.
Good. Because what’s been interesting recently is revealing myself at the end of the tours. Coco goes away. People are shocked – genuinely shocked. Some say, “Oh my God, it’s another person.” But when I’m performing, I’m fully in it. Coco doesn’t feel put on – she explodes out.
When did you realise Coco allowed you to move through the world differently? Did she give you permission to say things Max couldn’t?
Did Coco give me permission to be fabulous? I think it’s the power of the mask. My theatre training is about play and joy, but the freedom I find behind a mask is enormous. My life’s experiment now is integration (and) how to access that same freedom without it. Coco lets me embody qualities I maybe wasn’t always comfortable owning. People call it femininity, but I think that’s reductive. It’s sensuality. Flirtation. Irreverence. Cheekiness. These traits aren’t inherently masculine or feminine – we’ve just categorised them badly.
If I behaved exactly like Coco dressed as Max, I don’t know if it would land the same way. When people see Coco, their eyes sparkle. There’s curiosity. Permission. It feels like opening Pandora’s box.
After a show, how do you come back to yourself? Is there a decompression ritual?
Not really. If it’s gone badly, I’ll be in the bathroom taking off the wig with mascara running down my face. If it’s gone well, I’ll have a drink and soak it in. But I don’t divide it that much. We’ve just had a fun time playing. I thank the gods – Greek or otherwise – and crack on.
If someone watches Coco and thinks, “That looks fearless,” what would you want them to understand about the fear behind it?
If I’m honest, I feel I owe it to myself to go for it in life. That means risk. I refuse to live governed by fear. Boldness, used well, is powerful. But deeper than that? I need to do it. For my soul. For my heart. To avoid the old “menty Bs.” It’s an authentic part of me that has to be channelled. Most of my comedy isn’t sketches – it’s human interaction. My thirst for connection is unquenchable. Today I met a pilot from the Netherlands who lives in Hong Kong – tall as me – telling me how boring his jet-setting life is. People are endlessly fascinating.
For six years I worked a “normal” job and I wasn’t happy. My heroes growing up were Jim Carrey, Robin Williams, Eddie Murphy, people who modelled freedom. Imagine a world where everyone leaned into that fearlessness and had bigger hearts. It would be extraordinary.
I understand that completely. Writing and talking to people has always been the thing I’ve wanted to chase, even when I’ve had other jobs. Watching Coco – that irreverence and joy – feels like what we need right now.
I have a very good feeling about Coco and Australia, actually. I don’t know why, (but it’s my) instinct. It feels like a strong match.
What’s the plan when you’re here?
It’s evolving beautifully. Coco will be doing gallery tours in different cities – partnering with AGSA, hopefully the NGV in Melbourne, and the Art Gallery of New South Wales in Sydney. Culture by day. Then the comedy show at night, where I can do whatever the hell I want in my own little world. It’s a double-pronged attack. And I want to explore. Go to the Outback. Get involved. I’ve been watching that documentary about the mushroom-killing woman – fascinating stuff.
I think you’ll be embraced here. Australians appreciate boldness.
That’s what I’m hoping. The best part of the gallery tours, actually, is watching people who aren’t on the tour. The bystanders. Seeing their reactions when Coco appears next to a painting – that’s the gold.
I’m very excited to see what unfolds. Thank you so much for your time this morning.
Thank you, Peter. I’m very grateful for the opportunity. It’s going to be a whirlwind adventure.
Coco the Time Travelling Tart will be playing as part of Adelaide Fringe (February 20th – March 22nd, 2026), running between March 3rd and March 22nd, 2026. For more information and tickets, head to the official site here.
