Why be an actor she said? Is it for the fame and fortune?
Ha ha! Excuse me while I keel over creased with knowing laughter. There's not a lot of that around now is there, but you never know. The fortune thing is pretty tricky in the theatre biz (telly's another matter entirely) but fame? Well i'd Prefer someone recognising me on the street, giving me a knowing nod which said well done on the show last night I had lovely seats in the stalls, than being mobbed by a load of geeks because I had just been in the last Xmen movie. To be honest at this stage of me career both fame and fortune seem a fair ways down the road. But three things happened recently that showed I was maybe set to be a legend in me own lunchtime. Either that or my anonymity is even worse than I expected. Sure we'll see;
1 - Don't I know you from somewhere?
The shitty call centre job was still as shitty as it always was. Jesus! It was hell and getting worse week by week. At this stage I was having to work about 48 hours a week to make any kind of liveable money. So that was in at 9 every morning and two days a week I had to work 9am - 9pm. IT WAS SHIT!!! Seriously though I could feel my brain atrophying slowly as I asked another American about the sweeteners they buy for their sweet company. Oh my god! One of the things I had held on to while I was there was the lie that I wasn't an actor, if anyone asked I was a musician. As I said before this was so I didn't have to go through me CV with every fecker in the building or hear about a million sob stories. I'm out of work and I have me own issues to deal with, I don't need to hear anyone else's woes. This lie was working great and I was generally left alone and I could switch on to autopilot and get through the day. I knew one day I'd get found out. I was sitting in the canteen one day eating some well dodgy, but well cheap, sandwich out of Benjys and I got an uneasy feeling, and it wasn't from the sandwich. It was the feeling that someone was watching me. There was. I looked over me shoulder to see this guy staring at me. Shit, what's up with me man? I turn back to me sandwich hoping that if I ignore him he'll go away and phone some old women. He didn't. He kept on staring. The only thing I could think of was that he was looking for his go. Well he certainly wasn't going to get it off of the Cowardly Lion here. I was looking for an exit stage left when he got out of his chair and made his way over to me. Right this is it so. He tapped me on the shoulder, I turned to face him and he said;
'Sorry mate, weren't you in The Fair Maid of the West a couple of years ago?'
That's the cover story blown so.
It wasn't that he was talking loud it was just that it was a small canteen, and you could always hear the shop talk going on. The Fair Maid of the West was a show I did about a year and a half ago and while it was a grand job, no one went to see it. Seriously it literally had the worst houses I've ever played to. Playing to 10 people a night in a 300 seat theatre is not my idea of a good time. We almost cancelled more shows than we played. So in the four weeks of its run a handful of people saw the thing and unlucky for me one of those was our call centre friend here. Shite! So he launches into the exact conversation I was trying to avoid having; how shit it is that we had to work there and how there's no jobs about at the moment and how our agents were ripping us off. Speak for yourself buddy, personally I have a very busy summer ahead. That was that though, I was found out and of course from there on in I had the same conversation with 30 different people. Does wonders for the soul y'know. When I started telling me little white lie at the call centre it was said to me 'what if someone recognises you?'. Of course I laughed at the thought, who the hell would recognise me? Well it happened. It wouldn't be as mad if he had seen me in Calico or Willows maybe but Fair Maid? The show less than no one saw?
Now that's irony.
2 - Me second telly.
On Channel Four recently they had a series called 'H Side Story' which followed the fortunes of the former murderer of pop music; H from Steps. He had swapped ABBA for Andrew Lloyd Webber and was training in musical theatre at the Royal Academy of Music in the London (looking now to become a murderer of show music it seems) and the cameras were following his progress every week. This was essential viewing for every twirly who ever went to drama school. There are things that happen at drama school that are so embarrassing that they should be left behind the closed doors of that dance studio, but in this program it was all laid bare to the world. Every cringy lesson, every poncey tantrum and all following a guy who really cannot do the job. This fella is not good enough full stop! Now you might say that's why he's gone to drama school to learn how to do it. Look, the RAM course is only a year long and this poor fecker would need to do it 5 times over to be half as good as some of the musical theatre people in the West End. Now I might sound a bit bitchy but fuck it I call a spade a spade and he'll be grand anyway because he'll walk out into the business and get a show within a day because of who he is. Mark my words. The people I felt sorry for were his classmates, the tortures of drama school are bad enough without a C4 documentary team in the class as well. Two Irish girls there as well. Good luck to them. All that said though I do have to thank H from Steps for many a Sunday morning pissing meself watching that program. It was always on as the hangover bit of telly and cheered us all up straight away boy. Thanks H you're some man. Now what has this to do with me......... oh yeah! Meself and a couple of the boys were sitting in the auld flat one Sunday creased with laughter and cringe at the antics and so called singing of the man with one letter for a name when I nearly fell off the settee with fright. Let me set the scene; H is about to return to college after the Christmas break and his head of course has called him in to have a chat about what he needs to do in the new term. The camera settles on the two of them in her office and between them is a notice board. And on that notice board is what seems to be a card. And on that card there was a man, no ..... wait ...... not a man ....... A Toad!
It was only fuckin me!!!!!!!
I fell off the settee and leapt at the TV screaming 'That's me! That's me!'. At this stage the lads are looking at me like I had two heads. Well I think they thought I was pointing at H when I said it so no wonder. I very quickly explain. The picture on the card on the wall was a publicity shot of me as Toad that I did for Wind in the Willows last year. How the feck did a picture of me in full green suit and make up jumping in the air end up on a noticeboard in RAM and then on telly in front of millions? It turns out that it was the Christmas card that Regent's Park sent out that year. Which is lovely only for the fact that I didn't get one! they used my visage but never bothered sending me one, well that's gas. Not to worry sure, because of that I appeared on that (bound to be) cult series H Side Story and who knows where else that card was sent to. And although meself and the lads were in convulsions laughing I was well pleased. Me second telly appearance.
On a noticeboard.
Well you've got to start somewhere.
3 - Fame; As Gaeilge.
Doing the leaving Cert. in Ireland is painful enough at the best of times but probably the most painful part has to be the Irish Oral. Rather than being a series of jolly Irish porn films, the Irish oral is, for the non-paddy among ye, 15 minutes of chatting with an examiner in the Irish language. Most of ye will remember the agonizing wait outside the room before you go in and you spend most of the time saying 'Gabh mo leithscéal?' ('excuse me?') to every feckin question this chick from the arse end of Kerry asks. You go in having prepared topics to chat about such as the football or the weather and of course they ask you about the current state of Irish Politics. Em ..... 'Níl fhios agam' ('I don't know' - another favourite). Déise tenor Raymond Collins was very prepared for his Irish oral in 1994, his plan was to go into the room say hello (which he knew) and then proceed to sing the Irish national anthem, the examiner would then be so blown away with his voice she would just give him an A there and then. Lets just say it didn't work out like that (meaning he never got to sing. Maybe if he had, who knows? He's a fine tenor). But I digress. Hopefully I've painted a bleak enough picture to those who don't know of the onerous task that is the Irish oral. You do get a practice go at it though in the pre - leaving exams, and it was into this situation in the Mercy Convent Waterford walked Caroline Stone, lack of that lord of lighting Flex Browne. Now here's a girl who would have no fear of the Irish Oral whatsoever being near fluent in the native tongue that none of us know. This flame haired Cailín sailed through the first bit, stunning the examiner with her quick wit and conversational tone and all as Gaeilge. And then the examiner asked;
'An maith leat scannán?' - 'Do you like movies?'
'Oh Sea.' - 'Oh yes.'
'Agus cé hé an t-aisteoir is fearr leat?' - 'And who's your favourite actor?'
And a blank look came over Caroline. She could not for the life of her think of an actor. Jesus! Who was her favourite actor? Its one of the most simple questions whether in Irish or English. She wracked and wracked her brains. The pressure was mounting and seconds seemed like hours so she just blurted out the name of the first actor that came into her head;
'Is aoibhinn liom Jamie Beamish!' - 'I really like Jamie Beamish!'
Good girl.
She said that the examiner gave her a funny look, obviously thinking who the feck is she talking about? Caroline was well embarrassed telling me but I was delighted. Although strictly speaking she gave the wrong answer seeing as I've never done a film in me life.
Feck it though, you know you've made it if you get mentioned in the auld Irish Oral.
