I was
cast for some reason as one of several red indians. An odd choice for a Christmas play, but being about eight, I really didn't have a huge amount of say in the matter.
This particular tale takes place during the dress rehearsal which was performed in front of the rest of the school during a special assembly.
Picture a skinny, milk bottle white runt of a child with a feather taped to his head and clad in an item of apparel consisting of what can only be described as a pair of flaps (you know the kind of thing I am referring to i'm sure) lovingly decorated with meticulously researched hunting scenes using a purple crayola, but alas very poorly constructed. (not by me I might add) This will be a factor later, but for the moment I was happy enough with the arrangement.
Of course genuine native americans did not have Y-fronts visible in the gap up the side of their flap based garments, and so neither did our protagonist in this little tale. No keks for this kid. No, I was taking method acting to its limits for this one. You think Sitting Bull wore Marks and Spencer underpants with Ewoks on them? I couldn't have improved my authenticity quotient if I had scalped the kid playing the christmas tree and set up a casino. I was Geronimo, I was Hiawatha, I was Tonto, I was naked in front of the entire school. Fucksocks.


The odd thing is that only about a quarter of the audience noticed, I put this down to my super rapid re-hoisting of my flaps. This speed came in handy during my teenage years when it was channelled into a finely honed 'wanker's reflex'.


Length? Well, I was only 8...
(Prof. Moriarty put his foot in it on, Sat 28 Mar 2009, 0:21, Reply)