A Cautionary Tale For Winter

First of what I obviously hope will be a regular series: an audition report. Although I suppose if they're too regular, it means I'm not getting the jobs. Ah, theatre, you are a fickle mistress.

Today I auditioned for A Tale For Winter, an adaptation of The Winter' s Tale for 8+'s. It's being written and directed by Nona Shephard, who directed me at RADA in Scenes From The Big Picture. I still think it was some of my best work, but then that might just be me trying to justify being mostly bald for a couple of months.

Seems like a really interesting play. Nona's taken the three youngest characters (Mamillius, Clown and Perdita) and is re-telling the story from their point of view. So you don't get Leontes jealous with rage, you get a seven year old prince wondering why his daddy suddenly went bonkers and threw his mummy into the dungeon. From what I read it seems good. I read for Clown and Mamillius, and it went okay, although I was under considerable discomfort and here is why:

This morning having woken up before my alarm (as it turned out an inspired thing to do, when it spectacularly failed to perform the only task it was designed for, a bit like Charles Kennedy), I thought, in a fine piece of early morning logic: 'Hey, why don't I shave while I'm in the shower - that'll save time,' without bothering to wonder how. Merrily scraping away, I held the razor up into the shower spray to clean it and thought nothing of it. When I'd towelled myself dry, I noticed tiny little shaved bristles all stuck to me over my chest and tummy. Tried to rub them off with the towel but couldn't in my damp state. 'Oh well,' I thought, 'they'll just fall off when I dry properly.'

And oh yes, they did. Unfortunately the particular underwear I had on today (CK, close fitted trunk, loose waist band owing to 7 year age) did a marvellous job of catching all the little hairs and funneling them directly onto my delicate scrotum. You know that feeling when you've been to the barber's and all the little hairs get down your neck and prick and itch? Well I had that in my pants, all morning. It was unbearable. Adjusting did no good, and my god, I tried. I'm surprised I didn't get picked up by the police for the amount of surreptitious fiddling in my pants I did in Hackney. Even at one point, excruciatingly, by a playground with kids in. I now live in fear that if i actually get the job and go back there, I will be razed to the ground by a mob of torch wielding Daily Mail readers.

So here's a tip: don't shave in the shower and don't fiddle with yourself near kids, unless you really really can't help it.