I promised myself I wouldn't watch it.
The time had come. Remember that little telly that I did last year? Well it was about to be broadcast and the world and its wife knew about it. Well.....maybe not the world and its wife but certainly me family and close friends (and maybe their wives). Anyway. The papers had been previewing the new season of Judge John Deed so people knew it was coming up but they didn't know what episode I was in.
I did though.
Episode 3. January 27th 2005.
Oh christ.
Picture it. I was having a whale of a time in rehearsals for Moby Dick and I had just gotten meself a nice little gig for the summer and all was well in the land of make believe when the text messages started to roll in from various sources:
- Well boy, are u on the telly tonight? -
- Hi Jamie, is it Judge John Deed the program that you did? -
- If u don't tell me what episode ur in I'm goin 2 watch them all so I can give you the jeer -
And that was just the start of it. All of a sudden me flatmate is smiling at me over the paper in a way that's making me uncomfortable. No, not that way! In a 'you're going to be on the telly and I'm going to watch it to see if you're any good' kind of way. Me mother is going on about it so much that I have to warn her not to tell everyone. She'd tell everyone I had a great part in it and they'd all get some shock when its only 3 lines and I'd look some fool sure! Me agent is getting on to me to order her a DVD of it from the BBC and everything. And its like this great big thing that I'm hurtling inexorably towards. These 3 fecking lines meant more in some people's minds than any of the deadly things I'd done in theatre in the past year. The whole world could be watching and dya know what? I couldn't give a shit. Because I sir will not be one of that audience watching BBC1 at 8 - 9.30 pm Thursday the 27th of January. No way boy. I cannot think of a worser form of torture than to sit through that and see my ugly head on screen for all of two seconds. I was absolutely resolute in this decision and it was one I had made almost immediately after I filmed the thing. I was immovable on this point. I walked around the London content that I wasn't going to see it. So there was no need to worry or be nervous. The mirror's enough of a shock every morning I can do without primetime on the BBC. No way boy. I was going to miss my first ever appearance on telly and I was a happy man.
Dya know what?
I have fuck all willpower!
After a long day of whaling on the high seas in a rehearsal room just off Tottenham Court Road I had come home to me flat with a bit of shopping. I make a bit of food and settled down to have a well earned watch of the telly, while flicking around I see a very familiar man in a wig. And not just any wig. A Judge's wig! Nah hang on actually. I can't lie anymore. It would probably make a better story if it transpired that I just happened to flick onto the very channel and the very time when I happened to appear on telly, but that's a load of shite. I consciously walked into my living room and of my own free will switched on Judge John Deed and sat down to watch the fecker. Curiosity killed this cat I'm afraid and there's no going back now. Here we go so. The program starts off exactly like I remember from the script but its a while before we get to the first courtroom scene. And of course that's where I spent that mind numbing 3 days so I'm bound to be on screen here.
Not a sign.
Right. No hassle. Well to be quite honest the camera wasn't facing where I was at any point during that scene so fair enough. I'm sure the angles will favour me soon. I sit through some more lovey dovey stuff which I don't care about and has nothing to do with the reporter (my character) and soon enough I'm aching for some courtroom action. Bit of a difference from constantly saying 'There's no way I'm going to watch it!' I was feckin glued to the screen. Surely the viewership are all bewildered about the lack journalistic representation in this program because I know I am at this stage. About 40 minutes in, there's another courtroom scene. Now this must have a bit of Beamish in it. The camera pans onto the female lead as she delivers instructions to the Jury. Yes! This is it I can feel it in me water. I was sitting behind her so the camera will definitely catch me talking notes on the proceedings.
But there's some other guy sitting where I should be.
Hold on a minute? What the feck!!??!!?? Who's this scab bastard stealing me job?
My telly is spared a cup smashing through it as I remember that I missed one days filming because of the Lord of the Rings workshop. Ah yes of course. That's the explaination. He's obviously some extra..sorry....supporting artiste that filled in for me that day. Grand.That said though, he was onscreen for a nice length of time. I should be ok so. No doubt there's a nice bit of journalism to be seen in the background soon.
Its another 30 minutes before you catch sight of any part of me. And its me elbow.
Ah Jesus! This is getting stupid, I'm sitting in me living room shitting meself over seeing meself on the telly and me elbow has all the fame at the moment. Now don't get me wrong, I have a grand looking elbow. But that's not the point. Its starting to get embarrassing now and I'm just thinking to meself that it's a good thing that no one else is in the flat to see this when the door opens;
'Hey, have I missed much? Have you been on yet?'
Me flatmate Gary walks in and plonks himself down on the other sofa and I retreat further into my own private hell which will now be witnessed by someone else in this world. Aw great! I'm really starting to think that I've been cut from the episode. And all I can think of is me mother's disappointment and the jeer I'll get off any of the lads back home that hears about it (and they will!). I'll never live this down. I close a show in the West End and I get cut from me first (and possibly only) telly. Well that's just brilliant, fuc...
And there I am.
The camera's on the Female lawyer for all of two seconds and there I am in full view just over her shoulder. Two seconds is all but me heart jumps at the sight of little ol' me on the telly. I'm on the telly. I think I'll remember me reaction for the rest of me life because all I can think is;
'Look at the fucking head on me!!!!'
Aw boy! I was not looking well that day. Crap hair (done by myself I might add not any of the nice ladies on set) and a dodgy costume (like I said before I looked more like a criminal than the accused did). Well lets be honest it was an inauspicious debut. The only way is up I suppose. I point out my fleeting appearance to Gary and he makes me realise how fleeting. He missed it. He must've blinked so. But wait all was not lost there was still me 3 lines coming up surely we'll get a good long shot of me doing me investegative reporting and even though I look like shit, I still want me screen time baby.
And therein lies the greatest embarrasment of all.
We get to the scene outside the court after the trial and all you can hear is this big knacker Irish accent asking questions. Oh my god. Now this is quite a well to do program so throughout the evening all you've been hearing is well spoken English people so my best blaa sticks out like a sore thumb. It gives me a bit of a shock because I thought that I had softened my accent a bit on the day but obviously not. Actually it was pretty funny and meself and Gary (posh Dubliner though he is) fell about the place laughing at the paddy among the posh on the telly. And did I finally get my close up Mr. DeMille? Nope. You caught sight of me as the camera swept up the steps of the courthouse but all that was seen after that was the top of me head. Probably just as well in the long run.
And that was it. Hardly the horrific experience I was envisioning but then again I hardly set the screen on fire. Then as the credits were rolling me phone started going, it was the start of a few calls that night cos me Mammy and me Nanny were watching back at home sweet home but the first out of the gate was me sister. And what were her words of congratulation and admiration for her favourite (only) brother who had just been on the telly?
'We knew it was you, sure you had some Waterford accent on you when you were talking.'
And proudly so girl.
Monday, April 25, 2005
Monday, April 04, 2005
23. MUCH ADO ABOUT SOMETHING
If Carlsberg did auditions they'd go something like this.....
Moby Dick was turning out to be quite a nice little gig and we were all having a whale of a time doing it (bad pun and believe me they'll get a lot worse). But as i said it was a VERY short gig. 3 weeks rehearsals and 2 nights play? The Jitter had set in the minute I said yes to it. Crappy Jitter, I'd been getting a lot of that recently and it had shag all to do with Waterford hurling matches. Jesus Christ what do you have to do to get an audition in this town? Moby Dick had a fiendishly difficult score and the first week had consisted of the 9 men in the cast sitting around the piano with their heads buried in their music. All the solos I had were really high for me. Tight boxers were the order of the day so. I was sitting in the rehearsal room singing me heart out for the lads when suddenly something came alive in my pocket. I mean my phone of course. I did a very unprofessional thing and excused myself from the room, ostensibly to go to the toilet but really to answer the phone. Well you never know it might be me agent.
And it is:
'You have an audition on Tuesday for Peter Hall.'
Stop the lights!! THE Peter Hall? SIR Peter Hall? One of the most important directors in British theatre Peter Hall? Yer man that founded the RSC Peter Hall? That's the buachaill alright. But why would Peter Hall want to see lowly little me?
'He's doing Much Ado About Nothing with his company in Bath this summer and they want to see you for Balthazar.'
Nice one! But there's something about her tone that worries me.
'I'm not happy.'
Why the feck not?
'Its a very small part. I put you up for bigger roles and I added this one to the bottom of the list and of course this is the only one they'll see you for.'
Not to worry, this is Sir Peter Hall baby!
'You have to sing for them as well. They didn't say what type of song though.'
Well that's helpful.
No worries though, I have a few days to sort it out, it'll be grand. My preparation for the audition begins straight away. On the tea break from rehearsals of Moby Dick I peg it over to the nearest Waterstones and grab meself a copy of Much Ado (as it will now be known from here on in). I don't plump for the Penguin or Arden editions mind you, no siree, its the lovely auld Wordsworth Classic edition for £1.50 that will do me nicely. I always get the cheapy version when auditioning for a Shakespeare, so if I don't get the job I don't feel out of pocket and if I do get the job there's a warm feeling of smugness due to my frugal purchase. Who knows, some day I might have the complete works of Shakespeare in separate cheapy editions. Well that's the dream. Anyway I get back to rehearsals and spend lunchtime having a quick gander over the script and it is indeed a small part. Very, very small. Well that's not going to stop me doing the audition.
I spend the next few days looking through all of the 10 lines that the part has to say and wracking me brains to think of a song I might do. That's proving to be the thing that's keeping me awake at night. What to sing. You might say: 'C'mon for feck sake you trained as a singer and you did musical theatre at drama school surely you know a few songs you pleb.' Well its not as easy as all that. There's no point in me walking into that audition and singing 'The Hits From The Shows' that would be completely dodgy. This is Shakespeare boy. Thinking back to me own experiences of Shakespeare (doing or seeing) it generally tends to be a kind of folky, old English style they go for, but I don't know any English folk songs! I'm only starting to get alright on Irish folk songs for feck sake! Jesus! What to do? Luckily my muse was at hand. I was chatting on the tube a couple of days before my audition with me lack, the lovely Karen Evans (West End Diva extraordinaire and just finished CATS dontchaknow.), bemoaning the fact that I don't know what song to sing. She looks at me and states the fecking obvious;
'Well isn't there a song from a Shakespeare you could sing?'
OF COURSE!!! Jesus what a div! Shakespeare is full of songs and sure wasn't there a song in The Two Gentlemen of Verona? Well there was. And although I didn't sing it in the production I was in at the Open Air in 2003, I was on stage when it was sung so I knew the fucker backwards. lovely! Song sorted so! All I had to do was go in and get the job. Easier said than done of course. This was no Mickey Mouse gig. Anything that might give me the edge would be a bonus at this stage. That little anything comes the day before the audition. I'm in rehearsals and some flyers for Moby Dick have been dropped off and lo what do I espy in the indicia as I look over one of them? It turned out the composer of Moby Dick, this deadly American guy called Dick Peaslee who had done everything, used to work with Peter Hall at the National Theatre in the '70s.
Well that's good to know.
And so armed with me song, a few lines and a name to drop I set off the next morning (after extensive warm up in the shower) into the casting rooms of 'The Spotlight'. Now this place has done me alright this past year as it was here that I auditioned for The Country Wife and Lord of the Rings and got both of them. Well lets hope its an omen for things to come this morning. I get there about 10 minutes early and I'm sitting having an auld squint at the lines when I'm aware of a presence in the room. I look up and there's Sir Peter himself just after arriving. Although I'd never met him before I'd seen him at the Ian Charleson awards last year, twas him alright. And that gave me the shits even worse than I already had. Sure fuck it, its only an audition. Here comes the casting director;
'Hello Jamie, would you like to come in?'
Simple words but truly terrifying sometimes.I walk in and I'm introduced to the Knight in question and he's very pleasant indeed. Good. He's looking at my CV while the casting director compliments me on my performance in Wind in the Willows. She'd seen it last summer with her kids. Nice one! Sir Peter looks up and asks what I played in it.
'Toad' I say (trying not to sound like I'm boasting).
'That's a great role.' he replies (impressed, I think), and he looks back at the CV and continues; 'And I see you've played the Cowardly Lion as well.'
'Well I played a lot of animals last year.' and we all have a nice guffaw at me little quip.
Thank Jesus for that. It could have all gone horribly wrong. Toads are amphibians for feck sake! Luckily that slips by them and he's nodding at the rest of the credits on my CV and then he looks up and says my favourite phrase;
'And I saw you in Calico of course.'
Yeesssss! Go on ya good thing! Well I hadn't heard that from anyone in a while. I knew this was a possibility as Calico was directed by his son Edward Hall (a mighty brilliant director himself). This is going quite well and I haven't said a line or sung a lyric yet, but that's next up on the cards. He asks me about my singing and what type of voice I have and I proceed to tell him. I realise about halfway through me explanation that I'm beginning to talk shit so I suggest that I just sing something to show him and when I declare that its going to be 'Who is Sylvia?' from The Two Gentleman of Verona I can see by his face that I've picked a winner there. Was he expecting Andrew Lloyd Webber perhaps?
Not a sign!
I'm well on the ball in this one, they like it and the voice ain't too bad even at that hour of the morning and with no piano. I mention the hour and the lack of accompaniment after singing as a little joke but really its a sly way to play my trump card, I go on to say;
'But its a grand warm up because I'll be singing for the day at rehearsals after this.'
'Oh really? What are you up to at the moment?' Asketh the casting director.
'Oh its just a workshop of a musical setting of Moby Dick by the composer Dick Peaslee.' Answereth I, and Sir Peter sayeth;
'I know Dick Peaslee.'
Oh I know you do boy!
And then we have a quick banter about the Dicks, both Moby and Peaslee. I dropped the name and it hadn't bounced back and slapped me in the face. Legend! And then out of nowhere another name drop opportunity comes along when the casting director enquires as to who's going to be doing the music for Much Ado and Sir Peter says that he's going to ask 'Mick'.
'Oh is that Mick Sands?' I innocently ask, and when the answer comes back affirmative I drop the name;
'Ah sure I know Mick, he did the music for Calico. Great guy.'
Well I'm dropping names like I'm suckin' diesel at this stage. I then have to read (I nearly forgot about the lines!) and he only gets me to do it once. That can be a good thing or a bad thing of course but when I say the final line;
'And an ill singer, my lord.'
the theatrical Knight says to me with a smile;
'Well you're certainly not that. Very nice to meet you.'
And very nice to meet you too...oh......at first I think he means that I'm certainly not the part, but then I realise what he's saying is that I'm certainly not an ill singer. Jesus me nerves. But how bad? Nice man. I skipped up the road to rehearsals after that in one of those moods where I had had such a good time at the audition that I didn't really care whether I got it or not. that slight euphoria disappears very quickly though and soon enough I'm back to wanting the job so badly I'd commit murder. Big time. Well, time to wait by the phone for a week so.
Oh not at all boy!
The following morning I'm sitting in Starbucks on Charing Cross road being all sophisticated with me laptop out and a mocha that's lasted 2 hours when I hear that familiar call from me jacket pocket and the agent speaks thus;
'They've offered you Much Ado.'
And with those heavenly words over 4 months of bad luck at auditions was shattered! I was wanted again! I had gotten the gig, and a pretty fucking sweet one as well.
'But'
Aw don't do this to me.
'It is a very small part and it doesn't start rehearsals until the 16th of May. 6 weeks rehearsals in London and 6 weeks play in rep in Bath.'
Ah shite!! Whatever about the size of the part, it was only the end of January for feck sake. What am I going to do for 3 and a half months. That's a problem. And so I don't accept it straight away. I hang on for a few days while the agent gets on the phone to see what I might miss out on if I did accept it. And every casting director she speaks to tells her we would be mad to turn down the chance to work with Peter Hall and I pretty much agree with them. So we accept. And the minute its all official the worry is gone out of me head. Sure so what if I don't get anything until I start rehearsals in May. This is a gig worth waiting for. I'm well happy to be doing it and I'm walking around with a big 'I've got a job' smile on me face.
Then the agent phones to tell me what me fee will be and me smile gets bigger.
But that's my business boy.
I tell ya, I wish every audition was like that.
Moby Dick was turning out to be quite a nice little gig and we were all having a whale of a time doing it (bad pun and believe me they'll get a lot worse). But as i said it was a VERY short gig. 3 weeks rehearsals and 2 nights play? The Jitter had set in the minute I said yes to it. Crappy Jitter, I'd been getting a lot of that recently and it had shag all to do with Waterford hurling matches. Jesus Christ what do you have to do to get an audition in this town? Moby Dick had a fiendishly difficult score and the first week had consisted of the 9 men in the cast sitting around the piano with their heads buried in their music. All the solos I had were really high for me. Tight boxers were the order of the day so. I was sitting in the rehearsal room singing me heart out for the lads when suddenly something came alive in my pocket. I mean my phone of course. I did a very unprofessional thing and excused myself from the room, ostensibly to go to the toilet but really to answer the phone. Well you never know it might be me agent.
And it is:
'You have an audition on Tuesday for Peter Hall.'
Stop the lights!! THE Peter Hall? SIR Peter Hall? One of the most important directors in British theatre Peter Hall? Yer man that founded the RSC Peter Hall? That's the buachaill alright. But why would Peter Hall want to see lowly little me?
'He's doing Much Ado About Nothing with his company in Bath this summer and they want to see you for Balthazar.'
Nice one! But there's something about her tone that worries me.
'I'm not happy.'
Why the feck not?
'Its a very small part. I put you up for bigger roles and I added this one to the bottom of the list and of course this is the only one they'll see you for.'
Not to worry, this is Sir Peter Hall baby!
'You have to sing for them as well. They didn't say what type of song though.'
Well that's helpful.
No worries though, I have a few days to sort it out, it'll be grand. My preparation for the audition begins straight away. On the tea break from rehearsals of Moby Dick I peg it over to the nearest Waterstones and grab meself a copy of Much Ado (as it will now be known from here on in). I don't plump for the Penguin or Arden editions mind you, no siree, its the lovely auld Wordsworth Classic edition for £1.50 that will do me nicely. I always get the cheapy version when auditioning for a Shakespeare, so if I don't get the job I don't feel out of pocket and if I do get the job there's a warm feeling of smugness due to my frugal purchase. Who knows, some day I might have the complete works of Shakespeare in separate cheapy editions. Well that's the dream. Anyway I get back to rehearsals and spend lunchtime having a quick gander over the script and it is indeed a small part. Very, very small. Well that's not going to stop me doing the audition.
I spend the next few days looking through all of the 10 lines that the part has to say and wracking me brains to think of a song I might do. That's proving to be the thing that's keeping me awake at night. What to sing. You might say: 'C'mon for feck sake you trained as a singer and you did musical theatre at drama school surely you know a few songs you pleb.' Well its not as easy as all that. There's no point in me walking into that audition and singing 'The Hits From The Shows' that would be completely dodgy. This is Shakespeare boy. Thinking back to me own experiences of Shakespeare (doing or seeing) it generally tends to be a kind of folky, old English style they go for, but I don't know any English folk songs! I'm only starting to get alright on Irish folk songs for feck sake! Jesus! What to do? Luckily my muse was at hand. I was chatting on the tube a couple of days before my audition with me lack, the lovely Karen Evans (West End Diva extraordinaire and just finished CATS dontchaknow.), bemoaning the fact that I don't know what song to sing. She looks at me and states the fecking obvious;
'Well isn't there a song from a Shakespeare you could sing?'
OF COURSE!!! Jesus what a div! Shakespeare is full of songs and sure wasn't there a song in The Two Gentlemen of Verona? Well there was. And although I didn't sing it in the production I was in at the Open Air in 2003, I was on stage when it was sung so I knew the fucker backwards. lovely! Song sorted so! All I had to do was go in and get the job. Easier said than done of course. This was no Mickey Mouse gig. Anything that might give me the edge would be a bonus at this stage. That little anything comes the day before the audition. I'm in rehearsals and some flyers for Moby Dick have been dropped off and lo what do I espy in the indicia as I look over one of them? It turned out the composer of Moby Dick, this deadly American guy called Dick Peaslee who had done everything, used to work with Peter Hall at the National Theatre in the '70s.
Well that's good to know.
And so armed with me song, a few lines and a name to drop I set off the next morning (after extensive warm up in the shower) into the casting rooms of 'The Spotlight'. Now this place has done me alright this past year as it was here that I auditioned for The Country Wife and Lord of the Rings and got both of them. Well lets hope its an omen for things to come this morning. I get there about 10 minutes early and I'm sitting having an auld squint at the lines when I'm aware of a presence in the room. I look up and there's Sir Peter himself just after arriving. Although I'd never met him before I'd seen him at the Ian Charleson awards last year, twas him alright. And that gave me the shits even worse than I already had. Sure fuck it, its only an audition. Here comes the casting director;
'Hello Jamie, would you like to come in?'
Simple words but truly terrifying sometimes.I walk in and I'm introduced to the Knight in question and he's very pleasant indeed. Good. He's looking at my CV while the casting director compliments me on my performance in Wind in the Willows. She'd seen it last summer with her kids. Nice one! Sir Peter looks up and asks what I played in it.
'Toad' I say (trying not to sound like I'm boasting).
'That's a great role.' he replies (impressed, I think), and he looks back at the CV and continues; 'And I see you've played the Cowardly Lion as well.'
'Well I played a lot of animals last year.' and we all have a nice guffaw at me little quip.
Thank Jesus for that. It could have all gone horribly wrong. Toads are amphibians for feck sake! Luckily that slips by them and he's nodding at the rest of the credits on my CV and then he looks up and says my favourite phrase;
'And I saw you in Calico of course.'
Yeesssss! Go on ya good thing! Well I hadn't heard that from anyone in a while. I knew this was a possibility as Calico was directed by his son Edward Hall (a mighty brilliant director himself). This is going quite well and I haven't said a line or sung a lyric yet, but that's next up on the cards. He asks me about my singing and what type of voice I have and I proceed to tell him. I realise about halfway through me explanation that I'm beginning to talk shit so I suggest that I just sing something to show him and when I declare that its going to be 'Who is Sylvia?' from The Two Gentleman of Verona I can see by his face that I've picked a winner there. Was he expecting Andrew Lloyd Webber perhaps?
Not a sign!
I'm well on the ball in this one, they like it and the voice ain't too bad even at that hour of the morning and with no piano. I mention the hour and the lack of accompaniment after singing as a little joke but really its a sly way to play my trump card, I go on to say;
'But its a grand warm up because I'll be singing for the day at rehearsals after this.'
'Oh really? What are you up to at the moment?' Asketh the casting director.
'Oh its just a workshop of a musical setting of Moby Dick by the composer Dick Peaslee.' Answereth I, and Sir Peter sayeth;
'I know Dick Peaslee.'
Oh I know you do boy!
And then we have a quick banter about the Dicks, both Moby and Peaslee. I dropped the name and it hadn't bounced back and slapped me in the face. Legend! And then out of nowhere another name drop opportunity comes along when the casting director enquires as to who's going to be doing the music for Much Ado and Sir Peter says that he's going to ask 'Mick'.
'Oh is that Mick Sands?' I innocently ask, and when the answer comes back affirmative I drop the name;
'Ah sure I know Mick, he did the music for Calico. Great guy.'
Well I'm dropping names like I'm suckin' diesel at this stage. I then have to read (I nearly forgot about the lines!) and he only gets me to do it once. That can be a good thing or a bad thing of course but when I say the final line;
'And an ill singer, my lord.'
the theatrical Knight says to me with a smile;
'Well you're certainly not that. Very nice to meet you.'
And very nice to meet you too...oh......at first I think he means that I'm certainly not the part, but then I realise what he's saying is that I'm certainly not an ill singer. Jesus me nerves. But how bad? Nice man. I skipped up the road to rehearsals after that in one of those moods where I had had such a good time at the audition that I didn't really care whether I got it or not. that slight euphoria disappears very quickly though and soon enough I'm back to wanting the job so badly I'd commit murder. Big time. Well, time to wait by the phone for a week so.
Oh not at all boy!
The following morning I'm sitting in Starbucks on Charing Cross road being all sophisticated with me laptop out and a mocha that's lasted 2 hours when I hear that familiar call from me jacket pocket and the agent speaks thus;
'They've offered you Much Ado.'
And with those heavenly words over 4 months of bad luck at auditions was shattered! I was wanted again! I had gotten the gig, and a pretty fucking sweet one as well.
'But'
Aw don't do this to me.
'It is a very small part and it doesn't start rehearsals until the 16th of May. 6 weeks rehearsals in London and 6 weeks play in rep in Bath.'
Ah shite!! Whatever about the size of the part, it was only the end of January for feck sake. What am I going to do for 3 and a half months. That's a problem. And so I don't accept it straight away. I hang on for a few days while the agent gets on the phone to see what I might miss out on if I did accept it. And every casting director she speaks to tells her we would be mad to turn down the chance to work with Peter Hall and I pretty much agree with them. So we accept. And the minute its all official the worry is gone out of me head. Sure so what if I don't get anything until I start rehearsals in May. This is a gig worth waiting for. I'm well happy to be doing it and I'm walking around with a big 'I've got a job' smile on me face.
Then the agent phones to tell me what me fee will be and me smile gets bigger.
But that's my business boy.
I tell ya, I wish every audition was like that.
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