Once again I am full the brim and the saucer with apologies for a delay in posting. It has been a very busy time for me, as it is with all actors. Christmas sees a wealth of opportunity, and if you do not pounce someone else will. In fact, the whole season is based about pouncing. There are some in the ‘biz’ who are superb pouncers. One thinks of Bradley Walsh, Patterson Joseph and Pauline Quirk. If I had to name a Pounce Master it would surely be Martin Jarvis. That man will pounce even when there is nothing to pounce on.
Pouncing is another key art actors should possess. It’s not taught in colleges and it really should have an entire term, because it is, in itself, an art. I’ve often opined to Jarvis about going on the road, maybe lecturing in the techniques he uses, but I don’t know if he picked up my voicemails.
But to watch him in action is simply sublime. Jarvis is a legend in pouncing circles. Firstly, he hears of an acting job. His ears flap and he somehow becomes larger. He’s like a pigeon, fluffing his feathers. Although he doesn’t try and clean mites out from his armpit. Then he analyses whether the job would be for him. His mind is like a computer, knowing precisely his range and capabilities, how they would fit into the vacancy. Then he looks at the money and finds all his skills fit exactly. Then letters are written, calls are made and in extreme cases, negatives are taken out of the drawer and prints anonymously sent. The job falls in his lap. It’s sheer poetry.
Bonnie Langford is another actor who has a different approach. Apparently, Ms Langford, or Bruiser Bonnie as she is known, gets her roles by a method only previously employed by the Kray twins. I remember her going for a role once, attained it and been in three episodes before the man auditioning her had even got to Outpatients.
Of course, I tend to leave such mundane tasks to my agent, Melissa, although my confidence in her and her staff has waned after I rang once and was told they thought I was dead. I was abit taken aback, but I said ‘Ah, that’s why you have not called’ which was met with ‘Uh...yeah’.
One job I did enjoy was Mr Kevin to the glove puppet Terry the Toucan. I’d got the part when Derek Griffiths rang me and told me of ‘a load of old crap’ ITV were planning. Instantly I knew I should apply. I knew Baz Molan, the producer. I’d used his toilet once when I was hiking in the Lake District and fortunately he bad forgotten. I reminded him of the time and he instantly remembered and sent me an invoice for a £30 unblocking fee. I paid and then I was in. It was the independent television answer to a fox which appeared on another channel. We got quite an audience with our witty repartee, which obviously went over the audiences’ heads because there were cuts and I ended up sat at a desk with a sock. And because of Equity laws at the time, I wasn’t allowed to even put my hand in it. Finally, it was cancelled. But it was a network show and thus propelled me into the limelight. I felt I should rest for a while though. I didn’t want to be known as ‘that man who talks to an empty sock’.
Where was I? Oh, yes.
I myself have developed a rudimentary method. Firstly, I will scan the Stage for vacancies which I may apply for. For this I need to examine the requirements of the advertisement against my age, skills and availability. I am very strict about this as there is no point applying for a role which is not a good fit. I set the barrier at 4%, and anything over that is fair game.
It is often a good idea to be original. Originally what I used to do was envisage the character I was applying to portray, and call the number as that character. Although I did ring a wrong number once and spent a fortnight in Bristol as an elephant. It is also very difficult making a coherent phone call as a fifteenth century Dutch Prince. Get to the sixth foresooth and you can bet you are talking to yourself.
Many actors send a headshot and resume, but this is not going to get you noticed. After the elephant incident, I had a number of lifesize cardboard cutouts of myself made, all holding my resume on their chest. It was a considerable investment, and one I curtailed after passing by the Shaftsbury and seeing five pairs of my own feet sticking out of their dumpster.
So now I just sent in a CV and a picture with a fifty pound note attached. I am pretty sure they are not getting there because I never hear back. Melissa, my agent, says it’s not a good idea but she is getting me nothing. Last thing she got me was a job as a After Dinner Speaker. Obviously I had the material, one doesn’t survive in this industry without collecting amusing tales of the greats, but I was upstaged by the arrival of a chocolate pudding.
