There’s a scene in Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s television series Fleabag where her character, Fleabag, finds herself in a confession booth on one side of a thin scrim from a character we know only as the Priest. Fleabag’s mother has recently died, and her best friend just accidentally committed suicide after her boyfriend broke up with her because he cheated on her with Fleabag. Fleabag is also in love with the Priest.

After some cursory confessions (I curse, I blaspheme, I have sex outside of marriage) and a few gentle encouragements from the Priest, the objects of her confessions switch from sins to desire: “I want someone to tell me how to live my life, Father, because, so far, I think I’ve been getting it wrong.” She’s crying. She’s terrified. “So, just tell me what to do. Just fucking tell me what to do, Father!”

After a bursting pause, he does. “Kneel,” he says. She’s confused — what did he just say? “Kneel.” He says it again. She does it.