As April becomes more in fashion on the
calendar, I find myself once again at a loose end after my one man
show was cancelled owing to having more people on the stage than in
the audience. But every cloud as they say has a silver lining, and
this event has given me some much needed time to catch up on my
reading of The Stage.
For those who don't know, the Stage is
the newspaper of my trade. Reviews, who is doing what, who has won
what and who is reduced to hawking their wares in the small ads. Not
that there is any shame in that; many an artist has resorted in
desperate times to placing ads selling a collection of wigs or
offering to read a script or host a childrens' party dressed as an
Ewok.
I once saw an ad for a certain
celebrity who I won't name, offering to mend peoples fridges and
freezers. People wouldn't expect the former host of a sports
programme to be mending white goods, but he must have got some work
because I saw him hosting Countdown a little later. Although he did
vanish from there again, I am assuming because of the success of his
repair business and not because some people were after him
brandishing spoiled food.
It is the one thing you learn in this
tough, tough business; to have a second fiddle. A trade or skill by
which you can earn when parts run thin. Christopher Biggins is a
talented man, but no one knows he makes small cuddly toys for
Goldfish. Derek Griffiths spends much of his spare time claiming
things from lost property, Todd Carty makes sea lion noises at
Brighton Marine World, Helen Mirren is a wrestler and lovely Richard
Hammond can identify no less than sixteen different types of paving
slab. Skills are essential.
They also bring you in touch with that
most precious thing, your audience. It is important you never look
down on them, simply because you are a successful performer and they
have to pay to see you work, whereas in their world you simply turn
up and look through a window and as long as you are on public land
they can't do a thing about it. I know the law. The important thing
is to treat them as equals. They are not of course, but as a
performer you use all your guile and skill to make them feel as good
as you. To be convincing in life is as important if not more so than
being convincing on stage, if only for avoiding a pummelling by an
unconvinced co-worker.
I sometimes employ little psychological
tricks to 'get them on side'. In the canteen I will make it plain
that I am not a celebrity and don't want any special treatment. I
will say this loud and, if needs be, thump the table. I have been
known to spill soup, such is my gusto. I will add I am just an
ordinary man I will say. With ordinary needs and wants. I get up. I
go to the toilet. I sing songs to my rubber duck in the bath.
Completely normal. This elicits a kind of quiet in them, as the
realisation sinks in that I am one of the crew. And, having digested
this truth, they turn back to their own table and carry on their
respective meals.
