Tuesday, 29 July 2008
I went through a copy of The Stage recently and booked ‘Gandalph the Wizard’ for my nephew Tristram’s 8th birthday party, and look who rolled up! Since they stopped writing ‘Star Trek’ Patrick Stewart’s been on his uppers evidently. He was drunk as a Lord and the stench of piss followed him all round the marquee. Fortunaltely Tristram and his chums thought it was some mystical vapour trail and they followed him expectantly hoping for some act of magic. Well, magic he was not my friends, although three cans of Newky Brown did mysteriously disappear from my brother-in-law’s fridge. Honestly, I gave him the benefit of the doubt when all he could produce from his top hat was a week old Ginsters pastie, but when he then went rummaging around in his overcoat for stardust and popped his todge out I had to escort him off the premises. “I’ll be speaking to your agent Pat” says I; “Make it sho” slurs he.
Friday, 25 July 2008
Wednesday, 23 July 2008
Friday, 11 July 2008
To try and gain some perspective on my atrophying acting career, I took a hot air balloon trip this week. I brought my Tom Tom SatNav system along just to see what it made of it. It started off as being quite amusing, just a blue screen with a lost looking chevron in the middle, but when you’ve been told to “Turn around where possible” for the two hundredth time, the fun starts to wear off. Things got very exciting though when the thermal we’d been riding suddenly evaporated and we began to loose altitude at an alarming rate. Peter the pilot insisted we jettison anything weighing more than two pounds, so I lost me donkey jacket and bottle of Pernod straight off. We were still losing height though so over too went the script I’d been working on for a stage musical about the 90’s European Union Treaty called ‘Maastrichtly Ballroom.’ That was to have been my way back into the business, and as I watched the pages of the only copy in existence float to earth like oversized and poorly typed snowflakes, I took it as a sign that perhaps I’d been trying too hard and should instead return to theatreland with the fresh faced exuberance of a RADA graduate. I was on my way back.
The final irony came when we eventually crash landed on the roof of the ‘Don’t Temp Me’ temping agency offices and a polite, electronic voice announced “You have reached your destination.”
Tuesday, 1 July 2008
In a bid to keep the wolf from both our doors my agent, Bernie Shimshelwitz, scored me a corporate role playing gig at the HQ of a major food manufacturing company a week ago. My job was to take on the part of a Senior Executive bringing his management team into line with some up to the minute inter-personal managerial techniques. I was mentor to the company’s Sales Director, Baz, a high flyer who hung off my every word. He shook my hand at the end of proceedings, looked me straight in the eye and said “Thank you Harrison. You have changed my life today.” Imagine my horror then when one week later (yesterday) I’m in town to audition for a new coconut flavoured dog food commercial and in an unholy coincidence Baz is there representing the company and taking a non-speaking role in the scene. The 21 year-old sloaney casting girl had me on all fours barking the tune of ‘I’ve got a lovely bunch of coconuts’ whilst nuzzling Baz’s leg and pointing him towards my food bowl with my hind quarters. For twenty minutes this went on. By the end of it Baz and I were both sobbing silently and never daring to make eye contact. I’m slowly now trying to rebuild my life. Not easy though, I cannot get shot of the taste of coconuts.