On the stageToo shy to ever appear on stage myself, I still hung around theatres like a bad smell when I was younger - lighting and set design were what I was good at.
Backstage we'd attempt to sabotage every production - us lighting geeks would wind up the sound man by putting the remote "pause" button for his reel-to-reel tape machine on his chair, so when he sat down it'd start running, ruining his cues. Actors would do scenes out of order to make our lives hell. It was great and I don't know why I don't still do it.
Tell us your stories of life on the stage.
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chthonic, Fri 2 Dec 2005, 11:02)
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Where it all started to go wrong...Was, at 10 years old, being asked to play the title role in "Rumplestiltskin". South Newbarns School, Barrow, 1978 if you were there.
So, as everyone knows Rumplestiltskin talks a lot of bollocks about his daughter's hair, gets caught out and explodes. Roughly.
The school interpretation of me exploding (which I obviously did'nt really do) was me leaping into a big wicker basket behind which an indoor firework went off.
Two shows - fine. I've been playing my part like I'm born to it and am already considering asking for my own dressing room rather than the Headmaster's office.
Third and final show - frankly, a virtuouso performance on my part and I gracefully vault into my wicker basket with the bang and flash behind me, smugly anticipating the thunderous applause that will great my Lazarus-like resurrection.
And I can smell burning. The cast are singing "Tee hee hee the lying git's dead" or similar and I squirm round to see that the firework has set the wicker basket on fire.
So with a startled cry of "Dogs Tits" or whatever my choice of expletive was in those days I leap back out of my basket straight into the middle of the finale, and not a moment too soon as it bursts into flames behind me.
Now I'm 37. Is it safe outside yet?
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The Disappointed Caravanner of the year, Sat 3 Dec 2005, 20:07,
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