It's a five minute game...

It seems like things might at last be picking up. June and July have been as dry as Jimmy Carr, but everyone said it was a quiet time. I was beginning to think of it a bit like the start of the First World War; they were saying it'd be over by Christmas, but I had visions of rotting in a trench until I shot myself in the foot just to do a bit of T.I.E.

Anyway, today I went to the Finborough Theatre to audition for Little Madam, a play about Margaret Thatcher as a twelve year old seeing her future life played out by her sock puppets and imaginary friends. It's far better than it probably sounds.

I was auditioning for the part of Teddy. Yes, dear reader: I, a clessicly trehned ehctor, may play my first part in a pair of fluffly ears with a black nose. Again, this would be far better than it probably sounds. And it makes me think of Michael Simkins in the cowardly lion suit in What's My Motivation?, and frankly if it's good enough for him it's good enough for me.

Anyway, as well as Teddy the part doubles for Ted Heath and a miner, Maggie's final arch nemesis. Think I read alright, director and writer both very nice once I actually found them. I got there a bit late (the district line being my final arch nemesis), and couldn't get in through the pub, which was closed. Fully five minutes later and almost in despair, I found a fire exit round the side that was ajar and followed the signs up to the theatre which was also closed.

I have never been to an audition that started more like a bad, low budget version of the Crystal Maze. I was half expecting to be congratulated by a genial bald-headed bastard when I finally stumbled into the room where they were sitting. No such luck, but thankfully, no Ed Tudor-Pole either.

The problem with auditions is you don't find out whether you got the crystal until much later on.

And even if you do, five seconds isn't that much time in the Crystal Dome. And your team mates could all be colour blind twats who can't do big aztec jigsaws.