Adam Wu

I have been asked by management here to apologise to Mr Wu for the previous but one posting which questions his personal hygiene. Even though I was not the culprit, I am held to be guilty of this. I don't even know who Adam Wu is, but that holds no truck with the management, my agent, the Police or Mr Wus' solicitor.

I am unaware of any overly fragrant extra. To me they all smell. Of desperation and ambition, all chomping at the bit for one of us 'stars' to fall prey to some horrible end, meaning they can all leap in there. Well, no one is chomping on my bit, I can tell you that.

I myself remember being an extra, waiting for my big chance. Five years I paced up and down as expectant father, mowed as garden hand, painted as a contemporary (unspeaking) of Van Gogh and was a Roman gladiator. Something many people still comment on, partly because it exposed the sinuey muscle of my legs but also because it was The Great Gatsby.
I remember thinking "I would like someone to fall off that gantry". I am ashamed of that now, of course, but at the time blind ambition and naked greed fuelled my furnace. I could stop at nothing, my drive was strong, my ambition huge, my tool sleak. Week after week of being treated like a proll didn't help. Ordered around, poked, prodded, pointed at, shouted at, dismissed and escorted from the premises. All these things tempered my desire. Soon, I thought, soon. I would sit at home with my cat, and perform oratories the depth of which no one could ever conceive, let alone my cat, who seemed more interested in the Porkyfish treat I had sellotaped to my nose to catch his attention. That, and a ten minute cassette of applause I had recorded from the Proms made me feel like a proper actor. Other people said I was mad, especially the neighbours, but I was dedicated to my craft.

It was shortly before Easter 1969 when working on Pablocs' 'The leotard of Leighton Buzzard' Tom Legend, the film and stage icon fell of a gantry in mysterious circumstances. Many took it  that his final words - which I am flattered to say were my name - were an indication of who should take his role now that he was clearly going to die. I had told the stagehands, I remember distinctly, putting those steel tipped plate spinning rods on the stage was asking for trouble. and trouble it did indeed provide.

After a lengthy inquest, which many were kind enough to say was 'one of McPheresons' finest acting jobs', we recomenced the play. I could not hope to fill Tom Legends' shoes, obviously, him being such a 'draw' for the public with his high profile persona. So I simply tippexed over his face and put a passport picture of yours truely in its' place. And the rest is history. the CRB proves that.
Anyway, I apologise to Mr Wu if I have upset you. but you will face many more upsets than being told you are a maloderous little runt if you want to be an actor, boy.