New Agent, and a new year dawns

Good morning and a yuletide heigh ho to you all.

I must apologise once again for my lack of updates. I know some of you have been trying to contact me through my agent, however, as I am no longer with Aimsbry, Lambert and Connery and they have steadfastly refused to forward any post, calls or messages to me, I have been blissfully unaware of such communications.

It was all to do with a small drinks party for Sam Mendes, during which there was a misunderstanding over a coal scuttle. I cannot say anymore.

My new agent, Danny Wool, is brilliant. The lad is always working, it seems. Although sadly it wasa  bit late in the season this year (February) to get me any panto work, the future looks bright next month with a run in Churchills’ farce, The Decorator. I know nothing about decorating, and Dan told me that perhaps, by way or research, I should redecorate his back bedroom. Naturally this was too gooder opportunity to miss, learning the trials and tribulations of decorating whilst decorating. What could be better? Few actors get to live the parts they play – giving them a true insight. I tried this once before when I got the part of ‘Spanners Moplan’, the mechanic in Minder. I would have been in more episodes, but the research I did into car engines was curtailed by the oil sump leaking through the floor to the flat below.

So what would my ‘Decorator’ be like? A rough diamond with a heart of gold? A hardy tradesman whose dark past haunts him in a series of horrifying flashbacks? Welsh? There was only one way I was going to make my choices. I was going to have to read the play.

I availed myself of a copy, even though the ignoramus at Waterstones’ misheard me and thought I said ‘farts’. After some ruffling of feathers (not literally) I eventually got a copy from Smiths.

It is here that the young man on the counter recognised me. ‘You’re Tarquin Mc…Donald?’ he said ‘McPhereson’ I replied, using the patience borne of experience. ‘My Nan thinks you are fantastic’ he said. This sort of statement can do nothing but boost an actors’ ego and make him feel, at times of low ebb, that he is not wasting his life. To bring pleasure to one person through forty years on stage and screen and radio and magazines makes it all worth while. Hopefully it is more than one patron who enjoys my talents; people are so slow to praise but so quick to complain, I find. But working on the theory that for every one complaint there are three very happy punters, I have entertained hundreds and thousands of people.

I shall now settle down to my tome.