I am back

Good day. Firstly I must apologise for the lack of updates. There are several reasons for this, the last of which is I had my fingers broken in a protection racket run by a certain television actor. For obvious reasons I cannot name the performer, I don’t Wannamaker angry, or risk My Family in any way.

I think I am correct in saying my last post was in April, just after the debacle of Dick Van Dykes’ pajama theft (something which the British Police seem totally disinterested in, and the only action they took in relation to this crime was an arrest and imprisonment for much of May under the Mental Health Act). At the beginning of June a letter sprouted forth from my agent, Mcallister and Thorneycroft,stating that because of my attitude, my relationships with fellow performers and indeed the standard of my work in general, they no longer wished to represent me.

I was shocked.

What had I done to deserve such detrimental treatment? I immediately rang the office to seek answers to the hundred or so swirling questions which moved through my mind like a hurricane. It was actually two questions, but with repeats…

I spoke to David, who was less than helpful. “Listen, love” he opined “we have people on our books, and with your exclusion we now have a 100% of them who have never smacked David Suchet in the face”. I was stunned. Was I to be treated thus because of an incident which both of us (myself and Suchet) had long since sorted*.

“I don’t need you” I shouted down the phone “Talent always wins. And I am talent. And you will regret doing this to me” I screamed, my anger as palpable as a strongly odourous cheese. But he had hung up.

As work seems to be thinner on the ground than Nick Robinsons’ quiff, I have decided to enter the work of the great unwashed, and currently I am to be found in the dish washing section of Harry Ramsdens’ in Gospel Oak. This may seem a step down from the world of showbusiness, but I maintain it is healthy to mix and undertake the work of the public; it keeps you grounded. And who knows, maybe a role will come up featuring dish washing in a television play, or maybe even a film. And then my experience here will pay dividends. To play a role, one must live it, and the ability to play a man who stubbornly refuses to stop until that pasta sauce is wiped from the dish, no matter what the cost to himself personally, is one which I think any director worth his sort would look at.

*The dispute was settled in a barn in Totnes, where Suchet and myself fought in hand to hand combat. Both of us had been working hard, and had both come straight from our respective sets. Suchet dressed as Poirot, myself as a large petunia (I had been filming a commercial for Rennie). Suchet took a beating that night, and his ‘little grey cells’ were well and truly shaken up, as for some days after he was convinced he was Folkstone.