January
The year started off in something of a
stupor. I'm not sure if it wasn't Perkins' Gherkins which caused my
sloth start of 2012. The previous night I had been all set to go to
bed when Sir Anthony swung around. “Dear heart” said the Welsh
Wonder “I have been scouring London looking for someone to spend
New Years' with, and you, my friend, have the winning ticket”. Much
as I tried to discourage him, Perkins produced from his trousers his
famous gherkins, and I knew I was in for a rollercoaster night.
For those who don't know, the theatre
is steeped in such traditions. Every actor has something that rhymes
with his or her last name, and suitable escapades ensue. Judy Dench
has her bench, Simon Callow has marshmallow, Gareth Hunt sadly died.
But many of us can remember the fun and larks these fine thespians
have given us, and a few of us are still enjoying the resulting
incarceration.
I won't go into details, but I am
pretty sure the lovely fellows on Billingsgate Fish Market would
frown upon our antics that dark night, as would the Health and
Hygiene executive.
So I awake, January the first, sans
Perkins, tired, aching and smelling of tuna. Which reminds me I must
call Day-Lewis. Anyway, all the business of the previous night apart
and the Police having left, I promptly set about my list for 2012.
Many actors will tell you it is vitally
important to have a list. A range of targets and ambitions to
achieve. Some will ignore this sage advice, and their talent will
wilt and fade, their star waning towards the horizon, the glory days
long since departed until darkness engulfs them and they appear in a
Simon Nye sitcom.
I have always believed in having a
list, although in 2009 I picked up the wrong list and my sole
achievement was picking up two tubes of toothpaste and a sliced loaf.
One must, to every extent and beyond,
stretch oneself as a performer. I well recall telling this on one of
my many lectures to the young and restless of this parish, although
to be honest they didn't seem that restless, playing as I spoke that
awful Hungarian Birds. But I did inspire one young person who came up
to me later. “Please, Mr McPhereson, please tell me how you be so
good at that acting stuff”. Of course, one has to be careful these
days helping youngsters. You can't be too careful. One wrong move,
one misinterpreted word out of place, and you are smeared with the
foulest of slurs. “Wait” I told the young pretender, leaving them
agog and eager to hear my advice and heading off down the corridor to
the gents, only later to see their surprised face as the fire brigade
prized me from the toilet window.
So the list. As Shakespeare might have
put it 'aims and visions of life this list be, what aims this arrow
of life true to its' flight, ne'er diverting from true passage, fly
true to your command, dear arrow, fly the good flight'. Many people
have mentioned my lapses into the vernacular of the bard. I often
overhear people referring to me as “That bard” in conversation,
and I am flattered. So, what aims do I wish to achieve and strive
towards this 365? Which lofty ambition should I be determined to
fulfil?
I would like to get my job back as the
voice of Franks Jam. I mean, obviously the company distanced itself
after the incident, and made several hefty and much publicised
donations to the charities concerned, and even now I can't into
Whipsnade or London Zoo without being eyed with suspicion. And Ikea
have blacklisted me, it would appear. But with a little time, the
public will forget the calumnious accusations and ensuing legal
wrangles.
I would like to do a play. Maybe one
written specifically with me in mind. A comedy, a tragedy, a drama,
maybe a farce. Definitely not a musical – not after that business
in Chester which was damaging to myself, my fellow actors and the
makers of Trombones. Of course, various apologies were forthcoming,
not least from myself, and monies were sent to charities and
voluntary work was undertaken (where charged to do so) for no fee. So
a play. That would be nice. In the West End. But no Sundays. And no
matinees – I like my afternoons too much. And if we could just
restrict the audience to maybe three nights a week, because I think
over exposure to either tense drama or hilarious and well acted
comedy should be rationed. Of course, I would have to have the full
fee, because I would be unable to undertake any other work should I
be forced to undertake such an epic undertaking. And have my hotel
paid for.
I would like to be in a Situation
comedy as well. I have a great idea. Bob Marvellous is a actor who
has a wide canon of work, and is widely admired by his co-workers and
peers, who is making reparations for accusations unfounded. His wife
is obviously beautiful and talented and he is thought of as brilliant
by everyone in general and quite a smashing bloke. I haven't actually
thought of any stories par se, but we can get to those once the
cheque clears. Should I find myself available I would sacrifice my
time for the publics' entertainment.
Also if I could get a new shower
curtain, that would be good.
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