I have to say old people are so ungrateful. I mean, I expect that sort of thing from teenagers or middle aged folk, but old people? I told stories. I sang. I danced. I told a few jokes. I even did my impression of Derek Jacobi eating Brie. Nothing. There was even the sound of running water from one of them during a annecdote about Jon Pertwee.
Then, on teh way out, someone stopped me, and, poised to sign an autograph, I was told "Come on Mr Mallory, you can't go home today". The last thing I expected when asked to come here was a post performance colonostomy. This is worse than when I appeared in Bath.
When I finally convinced them of my indentity, they were most apologetic. Although on the way out I SWEAR I heard Cants' laugh.
20100825
Wednesday
If I told you I was nervous, would you believe me? There's an audience of people in the building I am parked outside, waiting for me. I have no prep, no material. I am just going to go in there and be me.
Some of these people fought the Germans. Two of them while the war was on.
Some of these people fought the Germans. Two of them while the war was on.
Update - Tuesday
My Spotlight entry online has been hacked. I would like to assure you I have never appeared in 'Gangbang', 'Ninas' Wandering Hands' or 'Speculum Madness'. I rang the people straight away and they were very insistant I had run them and specifically asked them to put these into my entry (so to speak). I informed them in no uncertain terms this was rubbish, and they should put my entry back how it was.
The only person I know who could have done this, impersonated me with such authenticity, is Brian Cant.
I shall ring him now.
POST CANT
I spoke to Brian, even though it was kind of late at night, and he seemed surprised to hear from me. Indeed, he didn't seem to know who I was. Poor man. Obviously age creeping up on him. I informed him of what he had done and he put up some cock and bull about it not being him and how he doesn't do that sort of thing. Piddlecack! I saw him once put superglue in Sylvester McCoys' sandwiches. I think it was him. He had his back to me. And it may actually have been pickles. thinking about it McCoy didn't seem to mind. Anyway, the point is that he has cost me work and I want to know what he intends to do about it. So there. He's gone away to think about it.
BRIAN RANG BACK
He just rang back and has the temerity to offer me an hours' work in his rest home entertaining old folk. What does he think I am. I mean, I am going to do it because I have a tremendous respect for the elderly, my Mother is one, but this is the last time. And I hope he's learned his lesson.
The only person I know who could have done this, impersonated me with such authenticity, is Brian Cant.
I shall ring him now.
POST CANT
I spoke to Brian, even though it was kind of late at night, and he seemed surprised to hear from me. Indeed, he didn't seem to know who I was. Poor man. Obviously age creeping up on him. I informed him of what he had done and he put up some cock and bull about it not being him and how he doesn't do that sort of thing. Piddlecack! I saw him once put superglue in Sylvester McCoys' sandwiches. I think it was him. He had his back to me. And it may actually have been pickles. thinking about it McCoy didn't seem to mind. Anyway, the point is that he has cost me work and I want to know what he intends to do about it. So there. He's gone away to think about it.
BRIAN RANG BACK
He just rang back and has the temerity to offer me an hours' work in his rest home entertaining old folk. What does he think I am. I mean, I am going to do it because I have a tremendous respect for the elderly, my Mother is one, but this is the last time. And I hope he's learned his lesson.
What a week so far!
This week has shot by and I cannot believe it is Wednesday. A veritable whirlwind of activity has befallen me.
Saturday
I was awoken by the singing of the birds, the sweet melody of rain and the oddest feeling. I had done something which I had not intended to do; I had spent the night on a bench. I don't recall the circumstances exactly; I do know that Ben Kinglsey called me on Friday and asked me to go for a drink to discuss a new film he hd been offered. I can't go into the details of the project or even describe any detail whatsoever of the narrative, but I will say this; Ben, if anyone can play a cyborg assassin from the future, it's you. You're so much better than that bloody Austrian.
So our discussions of motivation, technique and method went on long into the night, and the more we consumed the louder we got. Should this be an emotional robot, an android with a past? Or should we just settle for something Morphy Richards would try and pass off as a kettle with arms.
It is at this point my memory of the night falters slightly...
I remember at some point Stephen Fry and Sting having a heated argument over who ordered tortillas, and Bjork vandalising a phonebox. I can remember some blue lights. Then, the bench. No sign of Kingsley.
Later I discovered a tattoo of Microsofts' Internet Explorer on my left buttock, which I distinctly recall as not being there at all. I rang Kingsley, who said he had ignored all my advice, and, if I knew what was good for me, I'd stop calling him. He asked me for my advice. Well, if I see that film and he's wearing an Easter Bonnet, I think I can sue.
SUNDAY
Was spent in quiet contemplation. I have many important decisions to make; should I go to the Oban Playhouse to play Dougal, the wronged cousin of Angus in the Jeavens' play 'Quick, Mr Kopple'. The part isn't particularly big, and much of my time 'on' is spent in a wardrobe. I also have 'Danger Bubbles II' on offer, in which I play a scientist who has the ultimate weapon; washing powder which makes clothes get itchy in combat. There is a certain amount of nudity, which personally I have no problems with, having appeared in a full frontal in 'Gerards' Early Bath'. A performance which, many have said, moved them so much they were actually physically sick.
Monday
The woman from Enders rang, and said I could play Dot Cottons' new love interest. Apparently the part has been written with me in mind; only I - the woman said - could bring meaning to the filth and squalor of a middle aged park prowler.
I'm keen, the money is good, almost £50, but I am also wary after my appearance as Dr Yak on Casualty. As viewers of that show will remember, Yak became embroiled in a CIA conspiracy involving cocaine and arms sales in central America while lancing a boil, and was found dead with his mouth stuffed full of beetroot. Yak was a good character, and became a firm favourite with many viewers, although he did have a dark side. Yes, Guardian, he was meant to be bad. My performance sucked you right in, which I think says something considering I was only in the series for two weeks.
Saturday
I was awoken by the singing of the birds, the sweet melody of rain and the oddest feeling. I had done something which I had not intended to do; I had spent the night on a bench. I don't recall the circumstances exactly; I do know that Ben Kinglsey called me on Friday and asked me to go for a drink to discuss a new film he hd been offered. I can't go into the details of the project or even describe any detail whatsoever of the narrative, but I will say this; Ben, if anyone can play a cyborg assassin from the future, it's you. You're so much better than that bloody Austrian.
So our discussions of motivation, technique and method went on long into the night, and the more we consumed the louder we got. Should this be an emotional robot, an android with a past? Or should we just settle for something Morphy Richards would try and pass off as a kettle with arms.
It is at this point my memory of the night falters slightly...
I remember at some point Stephen Fry and Sting having a heated argument over who ordered tortillas, and Bjork vandalising a phonebox. I can remember some blue lights. Then, the bench. No sign of Kingsley.
Later I discovered a tattoo of Microsofts' Internet Explorer on my left buttock, which I distinctly recall as not being there at all. I rang Kingsley, who said he had ignored all my advice, and, if I knew what was good for me, I'd stop calling him. He asked me for my advice. Well, if I see that film and he's wearing an Easter Bonnet, I think I can sue.
SUNDAY
Was spent in quiet contemplation. I have many important decisions to make; should I go to the Oban Playhouse to play Dougal, the wronged cousin of Angus in the Jeavens' play 'Quick, Mr Kopple'. The part isn't particularly big, and much of my time 'on' is spent in a wardrobe. I also have 'Danger Bubbles II' on offer, in which I play a scientist who has the ultimate weapon; washing powder which makes clothes get itchy in combat. There is a certain amount of nudity, which personally I have no problems with, having appeared in a full frontal in 'Gerards' Early Bath'. A performance which, many have said, moved them so much they were actually physically sick.
Monday
The woman from Enders rang, and said I could play Dot Cottons' new love interest. Apparently the part has been written with me in mind; only I - the woman said - could bring meaning to the filth and squalor of a middle aged park prowler.
I'm keen, the money is good, almost £50, but I am also wary after my appearance as Dr Yak on Casualty. As viewers of that show will remember, Yak became embroiled in a CIA conspiracy involving cocaine and arms sales in central America while lancing a boil, and was found dead with his mouth stuffed full of beetroot. Yak was a good character, and became a firm favourite with many viewers, although he did have a dark side. Yes, Guardian, he was meant to be bad. My performance sucked you right in, which I think says something considering I was only in the series for two weeks.
20100819
Update
my luck is changing! Apparently a long lost relative was a big wig in the Nigerian government and needs me to help him put his money somewhere safe.
Oh, this could be the break I have been working towards. I may be able to put on the musical to eaise awareness of Irritable Bowel Syndrome, "Hums From My Bum".
Oh, this could be the break I have been working towards. I may be able to put on the musical to eaise awareness of Irritable Bowel Syndrome, "Hums From My Bum".
Friday is upon us
Ah, Friday. The day that heralds Saturday and in a very real, dangerous sense, the day which comes after Thursday.
I have now stopped taking calls from Gerhardt. THere's only so much anatomical advice one can take, and frankly, I don't want to talk about castration in Waitrose. So that's that. Sandy has been brilliant, of course. I mean, who needs a big poster role in a multi-million pound production when I am offered such jewels of work as 'third man in launderette' in a Daz commercial. People are going to see that time and time again. Unlike his production, which can only be seen once, at expense, probably by leaning over because someone with a big hat is sat in the seat in front of you. Plus I have never had someone recognise me from a theatrical production, whereas when I played a dissident diplomat damaged by a secret service plot who is attacked by a lion on Bexleyheath in Casualty, the plaudits rolled in. I quote "One thing I am pleased about last Saturday night is the savage attack on Tarquin McPhereson by a lion on a common. It seemed so real and oh, that it could be so". A testament to my acting, I think.
Besides, these big ticket things have a habit of going on tour, and frankly I can think of nothing worse than being imprisoned with a bunch of egos in a small space for three months. That to me is simply asking for a Hiroshima of acting fury. Light the touch paper yourself, Gerhardt, I carry no matches.
So today I have another audtion for a childrens' show, "Mr Buttons' World Of Cotton Reels". It's a simply adorable role, playing Mr Buttons, who runs a small tailorage in a little village and the scrapes and problems that obviously brings. To really bring the kids in, there's also quite a bit of rap music. I don't understand rap myself, seems to me to be mostly about transgressions of the law, theft on a variety of levels and relationship issues. So it's educational as well.
I have now stopped taking calls from Gerhardt. THere's only so much anatomical advice one can take, and frankly, I don't want to talk about castration in Waitrose. So that's that. Sandy has been brilliant, of course. I mean, who needs a big poster role in a multi-million pound production when I am offered such jewels of work as 'third man in launderette' in a Daz commercial. People are going to see that time and time again. Unlike his production, which can only be seen once, at expense, probably by leaning over because someone with a big hat is sat in the seat in front of you. Plus I have never had someone recognise me from a theatrical production, whereas when I played a dissident diplomat damaged by a secret service plot who is attacked by a lion on Bexleyheath in Casualty, the plaudits rolled in. I quote "One thing I am pleased about last Saturday night is the savage attack on Tarquin McPhereson by a lion on a common. It seemed so real and oh, that it could be so". A testament to my acting, I think.
Besides, these big ticket things have a habit of going on tour, and frankly I can think of nothing worse than being imprisoned with a bunch of egos in a small space for three months. That to me is simply asking for a Hiroshima of acting fury. Light the touch paper yourself, Gerhardt, I carry no matches.
So today I have another audtion for a childrens' show, "Mr Buttons' World Of Cotton Reels". It's a simply adorable role, playing Mr Buttons, who runs a small tailorage in a little village and the scrapes and problems that obviously brings. To really bring the kids in, there's also quite a bit of rap music. I don't understand rap myself, seems to me to be mostly about transgressions of the law, theft on a variety of levels and relationship issues. So it's educational as well.
20100816
Agents
I rang Sandy, and at the mention of what I was doing with my sausage she put the phone down. I can only assume someone important walked into the agency, Hugh Grant or Michael De Caprio or someone.
Chester is looking more and more likely. The sausages say so, and I have also taken the liberty of consulting my psychic guide, Madame Busty. She is a true gift I found in the back pages of a magazine. For 1.50 a minute, she advises me on all aspects of my life. It was she who first advised me to get my sausages out and give them a good quizzing.
I need to pack. Oh, what to do!
THINGS TO PACK
5 Shirts
5 Trousers
5 Underpants
5 Vests
Picture of Proust
Travel Olives
Foot odour powder (in sealed container)
Trilby
Camera (with film this time)
Dr Hoots' Book of sexually transmitted diseases
DVD of Ricky Gervais
Some candles (not lit)
That should about do it. I haven't put down bathroom bag because we would be here all day listing the ephemera in there and I have also not listed pajamas, simply because when on the road, one likes to sleep au natural, to really get into the skin of the character. Also Timothy West took the piss out of my Porky Pig PJs last time.
Chester is looking more and more likely. The sausages say so, and I have also taken the liberty of consulting my psychic guide, Madame Busty. She is a true gift I found in the back pages of a magazine. For 1.50 a minute, she advises me on all aspects of my life. It was she who first advised me to get my sausages out and give them a good quizzing.
I need to pack. Oh, what to do!
THINGS TO PACK
5 Shirts
5 Trousers
5 Underpants
5 Vests
Picture of Proust
Travel Olives
Foot odour powder (in sealed container)
Trilby
Camera (with film this time)
Dr Hoots' Book of sexually transmitted diseases
DVD of Ricky Gervais
Some candles (not lit)
That should about do it. I haven't put down bathroom bag because we would be here all day listing the ephemera in there and I have also not listed pajamas, simply because when on the road, one likes to sleep au natural, to really get into the skin of the character. Also Timothy West took the piss out of my Porky Pig PJs last time.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)