A brief thought on pranks

 Pranks are very important in the acting world. They provide a welcome relief from the absolute seriousness of the work; some people say our work is not serious. But it is. It is serious and deadly. In fact I can’t think of one solitary occupation which is more dangerous than acting. Bomb disposers, surgeons, fire fighters and the Army may well have casualties and fatalities, but few of those can face a hostile audience in Stockport on a rainy Thursday, the horror of a prop, integral to the plot, which is not where it’s supposed to be or a bad review in The Stage. 

For example, I once was in a 70s’ farce called ‘The Missus is a Aspidistra’ with June Whitfield as the Missus. There was a scene where I had to water June whilst talking about a fellow in the office, it was quite a detailed bit of exposition. But terror! No watering can was on the stage! Panic, Tarquin, Panic! This is where acting is such a weapon, such an awesome ability to possess, it is simply a crime not to utilise it. I improvised.

While I would not like to say how I managed this situation, the management of the theatre obviously saw me as a threat and let me go as soon as I got off the stage, citing health and safety, hygiene and the obscene publications act.

A good actor will take any job.

 

I received a call recently from my new representative, Amy. Amy takes over from Gavin who takes over from Matt who took over from Gabrielle who replaced Mindy. Tha agenc I am with at the moment has a good promotional record; certainly many of the previous managers have moved on and pleasant though Amy was, I did feel it a bit weird she kept addressing me as ‘Mr Havers’.

She was mentioning to me an opportunity in a film in New Orleans, where the role to be considered was a charismatic Englishman. A role suited to myself and Mr Havers. Of course it would be unprofessional for me to accept this role, it would go against every fibre of morality and integrity I have. I would be taking the food from Nigel Havers’ mouth!

Then she mentioned the fee. Nigel Havers eats very well anyway. And as she had gone to such trouble booking a hotel and hospitality it would have been totally ungrateful not to comply with her arrangements. Almost an act of disloyalty. I could not bring myself to manufacture such a situation. She may never call again. Lord knows she hadn’t called before.

Of course, there will be people who will say my pretending to be Havers is a tremendous act. But am I not an actor? Is not the role of Havers a role someone is destined at some point to play? A biopic or musical based on Havers and the shows he has been in, whatever they were. It would be an insult to him to refuse this role.

The part I was selected for needed a medical; this was no problem. I was to see Dr Noys, who deals with this sort of thing. Fortunately, Noys was not the sort of man who watches a ‘Nigel Havers Big Time Big Top Summertime Special’ or whatever it is he’s been in, so no suspicions were aroused.

After the preliminary examination, and certain questions regarding a rash mentioned on the notes, Dr Noys asked me to strip off. I am not ashamed of my body; as an actor I cannot afford to be. I remember a tender and emotional love scene with myself and lovely Joan Simms. Our bodies writhed in a ballet of fleshy passion, lost in ourselves and each other, hands grabbing, exploring, tongues entwined in between breathy, erotic gasps. It was the best washing up liquid commercial they ever made. Sadly it never made it to air, apart from in a certain cinema in Soho.

As the doctor probed, measured, weighed, felt and massaged he asked me a number of questions which revealed a little more about Havers than I wanted to know. I am not about to go into details for reasons of professional courtesy, but I have never engaged in that sort of thing. It’s even frowned on in Abergavenny.

At the end of the physical he handed me a number for a decent Trichologist, as mine was obviously not up to the job. As I exited his room, Havers was in the waiting area. He challenged me about my impersonation him. Obviously I stood my ground and pretended he wasn’t there. Finally, Havers lost his rag. A scuffle broke out. Rolling about on the floor we battled for supremacy, neither of us noticing the swiss army knife of actors, Hugh Bonneville step over us and into the office. First we knew about it was when we looked up mid skirmish to see the door shut, each of us clutching a large chunk of the others hair.

We arose, dusted ourselves down, applied some sellotape to the pulled follicles. We exchanged pleasantries and promised to send each other small tokens and gifts by way of apology. We exited the premises a good ten minutes before the Police arrived.

Boxing Day Actors Life

 

One thing about Boxing day is an actor can pick up a lot of residuals. With the growth of TV channels, if you have been in as many programmes as I have, you are certain to be on somewhere.

It’s also nice to see so many old friends who have either apparently died or changed their phone number. For instance, on the Science Fiction channel at the moment, is a repeat of a show I worked on called ‘Moonshot’. Moon was one of those programmes destined to become a cult, running as it did for five episodes. We actually made twelve, but the powers at be considered it to be so ahead of its’ time, they decided that if it got too much of a following then at the end of the 12^th there may be civil unrest. In retrospect they were right, as no sooner had the news of the cessation of broadcast leaked out, there was a ticket office dispute at British Rail.

In the show I played the second in command, the brilliant, charismatic alien Fred Stokes. There was a problem with how to define an alien. Star Trek had done ears, eyebrows and crinkly foreheads, so we needed another way of demonstrating his other world origins. We ignored the face area and went with my interpretation of extraterrestrial life as having really big feet. Gerry – the producer – had cast the excellent Peter Firth as Commander Rex Maximus and Penelope Keith as Doctor Rachel Plastercast, with Arthur English as the chief space pilot Ronnie Speed. We all got along magnificently, and being the professionals we are, when the show was over we all went our own ways, Peter to the west end, Penelope to BBC Sitcom, while I was able to finally concentrate on my cactii.

Many people wrongly think it’s incorrect for actors to be paid for work they did forty or fifty years ago. But I disagree. If you have put in a good performance and people are still getting joy from it, why should you not be rewarded? For example, when I was in the long running Edwardian drama ‘Three Storey Stories’, I played McWinder, the assistant butler to Mr Jeavons, played by the wonderfully talented John Thaw. McWinder was a comic relief, always using the wrong spoon for this, an incorrect place setting for that; much merriment the character brought until his untimely demise off camera being run down by a horse in the third episode. I remember dear John Thaw was so beside himself at my departure he hardly spoke to me again, a testament to my ability that one moment I would be gathering in the laughs to the nest moving people to tears. I am told by his widow he never wanted to work with me again, such was the quality of my work. Smashing Matriarch  Peggy Mount, who played the cook in the series summed it up without over sentimentality as I prepared to leave. ‘Never mind’ she said, before going off to play cards with the crew. It’s always stayed with me. And that now people say it’s best to watch from episode four onwards, as what goes before is too awful, really makes me proud of my job there. So why should I not get paid? People remember it.

I flip through more channels. The Food Channel is always good, and I have appeared several times. Cooking With The Stars is a show I am totally in love with, not least because they invited me on when Chesney Hawkes had something else going on. They know they can rely on me when another lets them down. Plus extra viewers will tune in to see my latest culinary creation and whether I once again need the Fire Brigade.

Of course, unless you are in pantomime, the gap between the Christmas and New Year is a fine time to step back, take stock of what you have achieved. Once you have done that, you can concentrate on all the fine work you have lined up for the new year. I have an appearance on Womans’ Hour in July to look forward to, discussing the history of pantaloons. I had better get researchin’. Toodaloo.

Christmas for Actors

Christmas is of course a time for actors. Firstly there’s all the books actors publish. This year for example, John Gordon Sinclair has brought out a book about his favourite puddings, Jeremy Irons has a tome detailing what he likes to do with balsa wood and Derek Jacobi has a compendium of hilarious stories involving togas. Of course, they would not be able to offer such riches to the public if they were working, but one has to take the filthy lucre when one is offered. My book, which I am working on between engagements, is called ‘Mysteries of Coventry’. I am afraid it doesn’t do the strange and mysterious in the City justice, given the mere three thousand pages, but my editor assures me it’s thoroughly absorbent material.

Writing is a tremendous outlet for an actor. It allows us to get under the hood of a project, to poke around at the distributor and carburettor, to fiddle with the intricacies of the radiator cap. Normally we are but the driver, heading on a predetermined route, but actually writing allows us to prod and examine the engine of a story, to get our hands dirty, bang our heads on the bonnet when standing up and finally calling in the AA.

Of course, many actors use Christmas to tell the public a little bit more about themselves, as if detailing the tough time they had in school somehow excuses them for the awful acting they subject us to later. audiences are going to say ‘We can’t say this sitcom based in a department store is bad, he was assaulted with a hot crumpet between geography and double maths. But I do like his moustache.’. Audiences simply don’t work like that. Sad for us, but they prefer an actor to be good, as opposed to bad, and this is where many of the pleas for clemency fall flat.

Of course, being ‘in the biz’ means I am privy to a lot of scandal, and I have to be careful about it. I don’t want to get a reputation as a blabber mouth. No, the number of famous actors who confided in me deeds and doings which would surely cause consternation should they leak to the cheaper end of the press for a cash payment of, say, £30,000 is legion. My loyalty to fellow thesps and their confidences is rock solid, and should I be approached in the Duck and Cucumber on a Friday night around ten past eight I shall prove that. Unless it’s a bank holiday in which case probably a Thursday.

Of course, books are not the only form of re-enumeration for otherwise inactive performers

. ‘The Devil Writes Sitcoms For Idle hands’ is the saying in our profession. There are personal appearances. I well remember seeing Martin Shaw doing a signing session a few years ago. This is a marvellous way of getting a few quid just for scribbling your name. He was outside Superdrug signing shampoos, paracetamol and prophylactics, before some prole came and moved him on, but not before he’d unwittingly signed a contact to do another series of Judge John Deed. Benedict Cumberbatch was another one I spied with the pen applying his moniker to things. When I say pen I mean spray can and when I say things I mean the wall outside the BBC.

Hanging around outside the BBC around Christmas time used to be a tremendous business decision. Directors and producers would go in, some would notice you, you’d stand in front of them and as if on cue you would do your audition piece. Of course now it’s a lot less dangerous as most of them are not in their cars. Lovely Stratford Johns was a pro at this, stopping a producer and doing an entire vaudeville tribute, and if there was no joy from said producer he sponged down their windows and asked for a fiver. Of course you would always do it to the front of the building, the rear was the territory of Ross Kemp, who demanded a fee just to be there. Any work which was offered as a result of being at the back of TV Centre Kemp took from the performer, laughing as he grabbed their script and pushed them into traffic. It backfired one year though when he accidentality was contracted to play what is widely considered to be the worst Miss Marple ever.

Another way of getting a bit of work over Xmas is to put it about you have something horrendous. And by horrendous I am not talking about a six week engagement in a Ray Cooney in Newquay. I mean either a malady or personal situation which would highlight to the hoi polloi that even though you are successful, famous, desperately talented and lauded by friends and foes alike, tragedy can strike you as readily as anyone else. If you choose a illness, it should be something no-infectious. Peter Ustinov once claimed to have something to garner a bit of attention, but the only attention he got was two men in hazmat suits ushering him into a van. No, if you are going to say bedevilment has befallen you, think it through. And carefully. If you have to, make something up. I remember a lovely actor, who will remain nameless, who had not really worked since the Goon Show. ‘Harry,’ I said ‘the best way to get back in front of people is to be in the papers and the best way of doing that is to tell them something’. He did, and less than twenty five years later he was heading Songs of Praise. Of course, those steeped in show business lore will know of whom I speak, but to the vast swathes of the British public, it shall remain an enigma.

My own discovery of this method of self-promotion came when I was experiencing a particularly fallow period. I had taken a job washing plates at Ivory Street Tandoori Restaurant. Mr Balouff, the owner, had recognised me from my Tonka Toy commercial, and been full of praise at the interview. And despite the comment in the references from Martin Jarvis, had taken me on. (I used to use Jarvis for references, but stopped in the mid 70s when I was looking to get some work in a zoo and he kindly told them – in confidence – that I should not be left alone with the llamas). This particular reference stated that I should only be hired if Mr Balouff was prepared to walk into the kitchen unexpectedly and see me dipping my buttocks in the porridge. As it happens it’s rare for a Tandoori restaurant to serve porridge. So it didn’t bother Mr Balouff. What did bother him is when Russell T. Davies was enjoying a meal and I took my leave from the sink to perform my Hamlet/Odd Couple/Songs from the Shows/Impressions at his table. Davies looked on as I auditioned for him. All the time my pulse raced, what role would he give me? How much work would I garner as a result? Finishing on a tap dance (slightly out of place on a shagpile carpet) I awaited his verdict.

Unemployment is a terrible thing but something one is used to as an actor. Having decided the career progression available in Mr Balouff’s eatery was not one I wished to pursue, we agreed it was holding me back from other more socially suitable work.

Use Of Food In Character

Food is of course a prop many actors have utilised. Who can forget Charles Laughton chowing down on chicken after chicken in his seminal performance as Henry VIII. Ordinary people would just consider his gastronomic interpretation of the role disgusting. But ignoring the chewing sounds, grunting, it and the rest of the cast covered in bits of chicken sprayed out when the great man made his oratory remains one of the absolute pinnacles of performance.

Let’s take the performance apart.

1. Firstly, Henry sits down. Observing the feast in front of him, like a hawk selecting its’ prey.

2. His hand descending on the chicken with deft skill, the way only a monarch would. A King who could invade, execute and demand faced with the challenge of this dead chicken. Determination to pick up this drumstick, and full knowledge that his power and privilege will prevent those who seek to disrupt the course of events.

3. Picking up the drumstick, shouting loudly about how all should ‘feast as ne’er before’, the fingers firmly wrapped around the end of the chicken leg, as it rises to his mouth, the other hand working almost as a supporting artist, seizing another limb of the fowl. Oh, the drama!

4. The bite. Now the bite is dreadfully important. One cannot simply nibble, nor can one guzzle. To get the true measure of the actor, watch him eat in character to know the depth of the portrayal. With almost expert timing, Laughton takes a mouthful just a little too big and lowers the leg, chewing, mouth open, whilst also attempting to say his lines.

5. Chew and swallow are the piece de resistance of the entire performance. The food is chewed. And thence, when full masticated, sent to the epiglottis and then onward to his stomach.

6. The other hand is raised and the pattern continues, and the other performers are so moved you can see some of them wiping their eyes.

I remember watching this as a young actor and thinking ‘that man certainly knows how to eat chicken’. Such was the impact on my young mind. I would tell all and sundry about Laughton eating chicken; the sheer poetry of it. Sadly, most of my non-acting friends didn’t understand and started avoiding me. That’s the thing I find about people out of the business; they have no interest in the technique of acting. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy talking to ordinary people about the weather, football or milk, but for a conversation I always plump for a fellow actor. I remember that legend Michael Caine. I spoke to him at length about the cannolis scene in The Godfather. To me the food stole the scene. Mike nodded sagely, occasionally looking over my shoulder in case he was called back on set. The man is a veritable owl, his head moving around, checking he was not ignoring anyone else. Such is his generosity. When I had finished my dissection, he got up and mumbled something before locking himself in a portaloo. I wanted his opinion and waited patiently outside, but people started giving me ‘looks’, so I sloped off to the tea/coffee area.

Another great whose eating technique I admired was John Hurt. John was a smashing man who could handle anything from a sandwich to the most complex broth. I’ve not seen it myself, but apparently his last scene in Alien is a excellent portrait of a hungry man handling all manner of fayre, although I understand the scene ends with some indigestion.

Another excellent food handler is Brian Blessed. Never have I witnessed someone bring such depth and texture of character with the simple prop of a pork pie.

In short, eating is both an essential skill for an actor and a opportunity to explore the finer, imperceptible details of a character. Be it noodles, a roast dinner, a sandwich or a bucket of chicken.

Below is a list of actors and their expertise in food. If you get the chance watch these people devour the dishes listed. Learn from them. They are all heroes of food.

Richard E. Grant	Roast parsnips (and many root vegetables)
Ricky Tomlinson	Tuna Sandwich (with OR without salad)
Judi Dench	Fluffy Omlettes
John Nettles	Sausage, mash and beans
Joanna Lumley	Fresh salmon garnished with a selection of veg
Julie Walters	Vindaloo curry with naan and popadums
Dean Gaffney	Lamb shanks
John Travolta	Rocky mountain oysters
Leslie Joseph	Crisps.

One of the legendary eaters is of course the late Peter Falk. Darling Peter was underused in terms of his eating. Columbo rarely lingered on a shot of him eating, had it perhaps it would have run longer than the eight years it did. One would have to rely on annecdotes of his use of forks. Poetry. His mastery of a variety of spoons, encapsulating the entire gamut of performance. And don’t get me started on condiments. That Columbo’s producers concentrated on crimes and not on him eating, say, a warm panini, is a travesty.

On the other end of the scale is Bonnie Langford. I have a great deal of time for Ms Langford, but watching her eat anything, and I do mean anything, is akin to a clown receiving a pie.

Character building. Lesson One.

Many younger actors come to me and say ‘Mr McPhereson, Sir, as a young actor where would be best to go to pick up those little habits, twitches and foibles that make a character whole?’. It’s a good question. I am actually asked a surprising number of questions. Some in person, some on small notes affixed to my mirror and occasionally questions shouted from passing vans. Many actors forget things like twitches and idiosyncrasies. I remember watching DiNiro in Godfather films and thinking ‘It would be a perfect performance if he would just pick his nose’. Little touches like that make a performance. Lawrence of Arabia, considered some to be a classic, would have been so much better had lovely Peter O’Toole been allowed to scratch his left buttock. I remember him calling me and saying the whole performance was marred by an itchy cheek. Let me tell you how I build a character. Now, different actors have different techniques, and there’s nothing wrong with any of them but in my opinion they are all wrong. This is how I do it. When I was starting out, it was difficult to get a solid character. We didn’t have television or anything like that in our house. It was just Mama, Poppa and myself. And my sister, Ermintrude. We used to do our own theatre productions in our small terraced house. Murder plays were particularly prevalent and many the time I would be the fallen victim, laying on the hearth, the rug, in a chair or face down in a pudding. There I would remain, the play going on around me, until it was over. One play we did regularly was Murder On The Orient Express, where I had to lay sprawled out on the floor, dead to all, whilst my family played the various parts of the play in another room, finally retiring for the big reveal scene to the buffet car – which in this particular improvisation was the Duck and Horse public house. Of course, I could not go with them because my commitment was so solid and I lay there until their return. As a matter of fact this was only the second longest I had committed to a role; I managed to extend and enhance my ‘dead body’ skills when we did A Caribbean Mystery, when the big reveal was the tail end of a fortnight in Doncaster. Charity shops are an absolutely wonderful place to pick up little character bits and pieces. The people in there are wonderful; mixtures of eccentricity and utter despair. Many the time I have gone into one of their stores, and pretended to be looking at a cuddly toy or Spode tea set, all the while staring intently at those behind the counter, drinking in all their habits and foibles. Of course, eventually they will get up and ask if they can help me. This is where my acting comes invaluable. ‘No, thank you. I am just browsing’ I reply, whilst deftly moving to the clothes racks. The assistant will then invariably walk at speed to a room marked ‘private’. After a few moments, they will return with another store member and pretend to be looking at something behind the till. But my eagle eye can see them looking up out of the peripheral vision to see what I am up to. This is all meat and drink to me. Soaking in their personalities. It is only when they stand up, stare at me with arms folded that I am discovered and must make my exit. I then walk the ten minutes to the next charity shop, drunk on traits and twitches, enter its’ portals, and a woman behind the till who is on the phone, terminating her call not with a goodbye but with ‘Yes, he just walked in now’.

Unemployment, Acting and Tips

I would be lying to you if I said the past few months have not been hard. They have been extremely hard for an actor such as myself. Once, the letterbox would flutter with offers every few weeks, but over the last year and a half there has been nothing. I have been living off the meagre savings I have managed to accrue over the years, together with some part time work in the entertainment industry I won't bore you with. And much of that money went on sudacreme to sooth the chaffing. Money for an actor is a vitally important asset, as I have pointed out both here and in banking premises. Without it one cannot afford to keep ones' self in trim for whatever role arises. Not that there have been many. Fortunately, being of a vintage, I still get paid for repeats from many years ago. Zulu has been particularly kind to me. Many are surprised I was in such a epic, but look carefully, use the pause button, zoom in and refocus and there I am behind the two fellows with the spears. This was of course before I appeared in Survivors, where I was honoured to be nominated in the 'Best Portrayal of a Dead Body' category. But nice those these cheques are, they are not evidence of fresh work. No, the only thing I have garnered during this interminable intermission in my career is to become the voice of Balone, a charity which provides party balloons to unpopular people who have no friends on their birthdays. It is a worthy cause, and I have met many good people through my work there, including Piers Morgan. It has really opened my eyes to the absolute devastating effect that no party balloons, cards, cake or calls can have on a celebrant, turning them from a once bright, accepting individual into a bitter, resentful and slightly ungrateful person with absolutely no redeeming features whatsoever. If I am honest, some of them seem not to even want you there, and the uncomfortable silences as you eat the cake in their front room is less than hospitable. And that's when they open the front door. But the odd time that someone is over the moon make up for the majority of grumpy, moody buggers and really it is a cause which I think deserves a higher profile in the public's minds. Although I cannot be as bigger part as I would like as frankly the money is rubbish. But the publicity campaign has been very healthy. Charity work is, of course, a wonderful way of boosting ones' career profile whilst simultaneously providing a showcase for your talents. I remember a very famous actor promoted a shopping centre as Peter the Purchasing Panda. His costume and performance as the seven foot four hundred pound Panda earned him much attention, and a permanent, well paid role which many performers would dearly love, although I understand some of those enclosures can get a little claustrophobic, I have also been involved in 'Shopping for the Vulnerable'. This is an excellent scheme, and if, like me, you live in an area populated by close-to-retirement theatrical agents it can be a boon for networking. For instance, I do shopping for Helen Chapman, whose agency represents a huge range of actors, performers and singers. Helen herself – I know she won't mind me saying this* – is an infirm old crone and finds supermarket shopping scary. The noise, the crowds and she became convinced there was some man following her about. When I offered to do her shopping for her, she was reluctant at first, but after I pointed out her issues, she agreed and I did her full shop. Although she did neglect to give me her home address, and it took some time to trace her. She expressed surprise when I first knocked, and after a brief conversation, firstly through her letterbox and then with an attending officer, we came to quite the arrangement. I also do some shopping for Henry Valliard. Henry, sadly, is afflicted with a fear of going out. Apparently he is accosted all the time by out of work actors eager for representation, and such has it had an impact he now lives in one room of his Kensington home with the curtains closed. You may ask how I came to do his shopping? This is where the Charity work came in. On delivering a couple of balloons and cake to him, we got onto the subject of the recruiting of suitable acting talent in the West End. I happened to mention my considerable CV, a copy of which, together with head shots and a full body picture and a link to my IMDB listing, I coincidentally had in my pocket in a presentation envelope. I handed it to him to prove a point, that there were actors capable of fulfilling many roles still available throughout the area; A elderly major haunted by battles past, a disgruntled civil servant on the cusp of retirement, a portly fellow accused of murder on an afternoon detective show. All could be filled with ease. But he was more concerned about where I would buy his organic cabbage and what the hell these balloons were all about. Anyway, we got on famously and he definitely said he would keep me in mind for future work, handing me back my envelope assuring me his photographic memory had stored my details for future contact**. The point here is that during recent events, I have been busy, laying the groundwork for a comeback. But the problem remains at the moment of money. So I will give you some tips. 1. Use charity shops Charity shops are a fantastic resource for clothes, ornaments or other peoples' awards.*** I have picked up many bargains. Where else could I, for one solitary pound, obtain a lemon squeezer in the shape of Eamonn Andrews? Or a scale model of a herring trawler? Or a tea pot which looks like Blenheim Palace if it had a spout? I'll wager there are few places such treasure can be located, bought and enjoyed. Of course, one must be absolutely sure such things are in good condition. I once bought – for sake of sentimentality – a Space 1999 'Eagle' transporter space ship. I bought it because I was in Space 1999 and it brought back memories of Marin Landau and Barbara Bain both claiming it wasn't them who made the complaints. But on inspection there was a tiny dent in the door panel. I queried this with the woman behind the till, and asked how she justified such prices for damaged items. I am determined to make a point about quality, and I am not shelling out sums such as £1 for something which, frankly looked like it had been stomped on by Bigfoot in hiker boots. She claimed it was nothing to do with her, and if I didn't like it I didn't have to buy it. But that is hardly the point. I once appeared in a play I didn't like, but I still appeared in it. As it happened, the audiences didn't like it much either, but the point is I was there and doing my job to the best of my ability and if the critic for the Southern Argus could do a better job he is welcome to try. 2. Use the 'cheaper' Stores & Brands There's a lot of snobbishness associated with food and clothes, but if you haven't had a shred of luck and Lloyd Webber has put you on his blocklist, then snobbishness although being free, is something you simply cannot afford. There is nothing wrong with using the lower end of the supermarket spectrum. I myself have visited smaller stores. Of course, I do it away from where I live, and a disguise is an absolute necessity. One cannot risk being recognised in these places. Next thing you know you are on page 17 of The Sun in the corner by the advertisement for mattresses. Horror of horrors. I have a special outfit for these troubled times, and I would advise you to get the same or similar. It's an outfit of an Edwardian Colonel I 'borrowed' from a Marple I did back in 1987. Yes, it is a little frayed now, there is significant wear and tear on the elbows and the trousers need attention due to the perished elastic, but it all adds to the illusion. The moustache I use is from a production of Aladdin with the lovely Peter Bowles, the wig was seen in The Bill and the beard is from a novelty Dave Lee Travis kit I discovered at a boot sale. The Sunglasses are obviously just cheap items (also from a boot sale) and the plastic ears I bought from Woolworths in the closing down sale. The nose is my own. I would at this juncture provide you with a photograph, but this being a diatribe about disguises, it rather defeats the purpose. I would only have to enquire about doing another Marple and they are so funny about the same actor being in two different shows. If I am honest with you, they were pretty offish about me being in one of them, so best not push my luck. So on entering the store, always enter in the same way you would enter any premises or business. Firmness of step, intention and purpose. Don't make the mistake so many younger actors do of lurking around outside waiting for the optimum moment; the number of them who have been arrested for loitering or suspicious behaviour is growing; just ask Stu Francis, who regularly has to explain himself to Her Majesties' finest. Also be aware that many of these premises are in the lower end of town, and one can, if one hesitates long enough in the wrong spot, be propositioned by unsavoury characters. While that could be a short term remedy, I cannot discourage this enough. It is very rare anything good comes of that, despite the success of Mrs Browns' Boys. Just go through the door as if it is the most natural thing in the world, the same way you would enter a Boots, a Chiropodists or an AirLock. Once in the store, peruse the shelves for the items you wish. This can be literally anything you want but with little or no resemblance to anything you want, save for the name on the tin.**** Then, take the tin/box/bag/bottle off the shelf and place it carefully into the plastic basket, being conscious not to harm any of the small creatures presumably swarming and multiplying either on the basket or the product. Once your basket is full, approach the colleague at the till. It is VITAL at this point to keep conversation as brief as possible. Muttering is usually the best strategy, I find. There is nothing worse than being recognised when at the till in these places, and the chant of 'Weren't you the Colonel I saw on Miss Marple on Gold last night?' going up, and one is instantly surrounded by autograph hunters, celebrity hangers on and adoring public. And one never knows where that CCTV will end up. One friend, who I will not name but use a different name, Jason David, had his 40 year career wrecked by being recognised for a role he played for many years, and the CCTV was played no less than 55 times at the BAFTA Wales party. The members' taunting was merciless, and now the poor man rarely leaves his fifteen bedroom 300 acre personal prison. Once the money has been tendered and the items bagged, leave the premises immediately. Do not hesitate and if there is an old lady making her way through the door as you attempt exit, simply shove her out of the way. People do not expect celebrities to behave in such a rude way to the public, and they will be busy tending to her on the pavement and contacting ambulances to notice which direction you headed off in. 3. Use Pawn Shops Pawn shops are a requisite of acting life. One can pick up such gems at relatively little price. You can also jettison things and obtain some well needed financial boostings. A small tip though, they will not accept a pile of your signed photographs. * as it happens she did. ** Would have been nice if he had opened the envelope. *** Normally this would mean a pawn shop, it depends. Some actors can't be bothered going the entire length of the high street for a couple of extra quid, but there again, some can. Can't they, Martin? **** Always watch for spelling. Pastor, Rise, Spagetty or nudels are all, generally, bad.