I have just got back from filming Stop! Get Ready! Cook!. What an absolutely lovely experience. And let me start by thanking the North London Fire Brigade for their prompt attendance.
Ainsley was lovely as ever, and I appeared with lovely radio stalwart, Kirsty Young and pop Legend Rick Astley. In the green room before the recording, I’d spoken to one of the stagehands who suggested I Rick Roll the man himself, and I am fortunate that I enquired further because I was under the impression it was a wrestling manoeuvre. Apparently, when you Rick Roll someone, you play them Mr Astley’s finest work, and within an hour I was playing Rick Astley’s song to the man himself, and he didn’t seem to mind. To be fair, it’s a very catchy song, and even found myself mouthing ‘I should be so lucky’ at every chorus. Mr Astley left to call his agent, and I was alone with Kirsty, I decided to try and network with her. As outlined before, it’s important to have a network of people you can contact. Even if some numbers turn out to be disconnected, pizza restaurants or, in one case, a dominatrix. That’s what you get when you work on ‘Sherlock’, and surprisingly, the result from dialling one of those numbers Martin Freeman did actually come to the phone.
Cooking is an art. Anyone who has been to one of my post performance dinners will know I am no stranger to a spatula. My speciality, leek, potato and tuna omelette was described by the late Katie Boyle as ‘interesting texture’. At the end of the performance, I invite the whole cast to my flat, where a feast awaits. I insist, despite the ‘No, Tarquin, you mustn’t go to any trouble’. But trouble go to I do. Obviously at the end of a wildly successful run, many of the cast have to get home to loved ones, get to their next job or simply sitting in their dressing room with the door locked, so you can’t expect everyone to attend. So it’s always a pleasant surprise when the doorbell rings.
Firstly, Ainsley asked us what sort of food we liked; This is always a tricky one. Kirsty said she liked Pâté of roasted indigenous legumes, paired with a compote of seasonal berries, served on hearty sprouted wheat bread, while Rick said he liked cheesey chips. Ainsley piped up ‘They’d be difficult to give up’ and the audience laughed. I don’t know why, but knowing I had to be ‘part of the gang’ I chimed in with ‘He should be so lucky, lucky, lucky, lucky!’. They were looking at me like I had no trousers on, and momentarily I had to check. I may well have added an extra lucky, hence the confusion.
Ainsley then asked what ingredients we had bought along. Oh, the bounty Rick and Kirsty had purchased! Ainsley’s eyes lit up at the selection of vegetables, meats and other ephemera. It was quite an anti-climax when I displayed my box of Smash. “Is that it?” he asked and I realised I have to improvise. Years in the theatre has armed me with a quick mind to rescue situations such as this, using guile and sheer acting prowess so the audience does not realise anything amiss. “Of course not, Ainsley”, and like that I produced a packet of Polos.
After the show I was visited in my dressing room by Ainsley. He ranted and raved about my Polomash. And not in a good way. Not in the way I would like. Unless I liked my work being thrown at me and then being pinned to the chair with a fresh breathed food guru using a string of bad words. And I can’t say I do. On leaving he whirled my swivel chair, and I spun around scattering minty potato across every surface in the room, a slug of my spuds hit Ainsley in the back of the head as he sought shelter, and he left the room with some comment – I didn’t hear properly but I think it was about melon farmers.
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