Modern Comedy Show

A comedy show - a typical clever-dick all male line-up except for one hidden woman. They are all about the same age 30 to 35 with thick blond hair. The audience laughs hysterically as they gurn together.

I don't think they are funny - I just don't get it.

They have no bodies - it is as if they are all conjoined.

The Three Disgraces

1)    I haven't had time to learn the dance steps - I can't even see the other dancers to check that I am in time.

2)    I don't know any of the answers to the three questions on football.

3)    The final humiliation: I am left holding a bundle of dry twigs instead of a fine pair of antlers.

Underground Performance Artist

At the end of the show a performance artist clambers down from the stage into a hole below the trapdoor. There he slips into a coffin his actions unseen. The audience is entralled but even more so when it is revealed that his sister has been patiently lying in a neighbouring chamber throughout the whole evening, checking that everything is in place.

Although the performance has officially finished the cast from Coronation Street troop in to watch.

The Important Message

I have organised a party and in Polish tradition we are each to name a cause for us all to toast. The hall grows to accommodate perhaps 250 people. Music plays and one by one each person offers their particular blessing into the mike. 

I have a short text in my notebook that I want to read.  It is the reason I assembled everyone in the first place, so I am desperate and excited for my turn to arrive. 

I ask for the deafening William Tell overture to be turned down. The audience continues chattering loudly.

"PLEASE...LISTEN," I beg them, "this is such an important message." 

And I turn to my book to find the passage, but of course the page is missing. 

Shirt Sermon

I deliver an improvised speech/sermon on my eating habits and collection of shirts telling anecdotes about each one. I have no trouble entertaining the small crowd until M comes in late hurling abuse at me.  She upsets herself more than anyone else and gets little sympathy.

Whose Script Is This Anyway?

I'm in the wings about to go onstage. My part is insignificant yet if I forget it the whole play falls apart. I frantically check my one line.

"I don't think I ever believe something I can't see," I am supposed to say.

The line makes no sense to me yet I am putting so much effort into quoting it correctly.

I Lose My Notes (Again)

I am expected to deliver a speech on An End To Nuclear Weapons to the audience in a club. The speakers before me were scarcely able to put two words together. The old chairman is doing his best but the night is a shambles. I tell him I will speak next, "Give me five minutes to sort out my notes." Of course I don't have my notes, so I panic. Although I have given this talk before I can't remember anything. I have pictures but what do they represent? I decide I can't give the talk so I hide under the floorboards. I tell one of my old schoolfriends I am going to sneak out.

Silent Talk

In a chaotic courtroom resembling something by Hogarth, I am to take part in a conference with three other artists. The main speaker and my old college tutor stand half way up the stairs trying to make themselves heard above the jazz blasting out of the sound system. I raise my hand, "This is an obvious point," I say, "but wouldn't it be better if the music were turned off?" The DJ kids are indignant- it is there to create an informal atmosphere. But they do as they are bid, and now the speaker can be heard clearly.
Except he stands and says nothing. He is not tonguetied. His "talk" is about listening to the silence.

The Naked Theatre Group

I have just joined an experimental theatre company famous for its naked productions. I am quite excited about it. In the initial encounter session some performers are role playing and whisper to me so that I can scarcely hear them. When I answer back their voices become even softer. I understand this is an exercise and I sit back passively observing. As the workshop develops I realise that although certain rules apply to the company nobody has instructed me so I can (and perhaps should) react exactly as I choose. I speak loudly and mock their actions. I don't need a script. The session flies by - it is very enjoyable. I tell them I would like to be challenged further.

Inability To Play Puck

I am playing Puck in A Midsummer's Night Dream. It is the final act of the dress run where I have just one line. I am hoping that the line will come to me at the right moment, but as it is I am not even able to get onstage. I try climbing through a tiny window but the drop below is too great. In the dressing room I fail to find my glittery leggings.

Announcement Of New Team Member

I am addressing a hall of people who work with adults with learning disabilities. "The new staff member for our group is..." I pause dramatically,"...is..." (The long wait is actually because we haven't worked out who it is) "...is...Christine is going to tell us now..." Christine looks flummoxed but announces someone's name who isn't present. I continue, "No...not them...the new staff member is...the new team member who will link up with Batman and Robin to confront every possible foe...(here a cartoon graphic is provided)...is..." (we never get to find out.)

What Do You Do When You Forget Your Lines?

I am playing a part in a Greek tragedy. As usual there I am on stage and it is my turn to speak and I have forgotten what to say.
After a long pause, I whisper to the rest of the cast, "It's ME - does anyone know my lines?" No-one does so I just sing da-da-da-da-da. I get everyone else to join in with me and the play is in chaos.
Afterwards the director is furious with me -this is the last time I will be employed as an actor. I am so ashamed. X tells me that he would never forget his lines or that if he did he would just make them up. "Yeh but its easy to make up your words when you're playing in a porn film," I retort.

The Spaces In Between

I have the main part in a play where a father abandons his young son. The scene takes place by the sea and depicts him hurling his son's boots away.
Backstage in an empty dark red room, unseen but overheard by the audience, I pick up the boots and pause, holding them in the air, imagining the arc of the boots' trajectory before dropping them with a crash at the opposite end of the room. I begin to cry convincingly as the lost boy. Another pause, then I head out of the room and announce, "End of Act 1". I realise that good art must leave gaps for the imagination.
Then of course I start to worry about my lines for Act 2...

Justice Will Be Found

The man responsible for the damage wrought on Cootehall is addressed in Shakespearean rhyme. He is told that there are people in three coffee houses waiting to give him each one lash of the whip. The play ends in the way that Shakespeare's scenes do end with a double rhyming couplet - something "da- dee- da -dee- da - dee -POUND, And so justice will be FOUND."

Five Six Packs

Five young men of different heights are staging a musical. I stare up at the stage getting a preview of the show. They are all stripped to the waist and have impressive firm six packs. They obviously worked hard for those. I tell myself I should start exercising a bit more to be like them.

Another Lost Script

I am about to go on stage to open the play. I have the leading role and although I know my part reasonably well, I have a terrible habit of feeding the wrong cues to the rest of the cast. With one minute to go I decide I am going to have to keep a script on me throughout. I frantically search the dressing room but can't find a copy of it anywhere.

Award Ceremony Rehearsal

A line of young models stand in a line on stage in an empty auditorium. They are practising handing out prizes for an award ceremony, their jokey chat stilted and embarrassing. A TV programme maker's name is announced and a woman in absurdly high heels staggers down the steps to present the winner with a box of Maltesers.

If you feel that love, can't you beam it up here

In a smoky bar the customers are transfixed by a very ordinary looking man who is singing a heart rending love song. He leans against a pencil smudged pillar dragging his fingers through the graphite surface. As the song grows in intensity his whole body creates a drawing of marks left behind by the unexpected twists of his limbs. He slides down across the floor and ends on a clear high note, "If you feel that love, can't you beam it up here..." The audience hoist him up and carry him outside.

Preparation For Cabaret

We are preparing for a show. I have made a list of all the performers' entrances and what they have to mention on stage. I rush around the narrow corridors backstage making sure everyone has a copy. I am not wearing any trousers.

Boy In Forest

A boy in his nightgown is led through a winter wood, a light shining on him from behind. The light fades - this is part of a performance, the wood a theatrical set.