Written on 1 November 2018
“No no no!” I shout in my most impressive authoritative tone.
“Lydia, I don't know who taught you to act, but I want to slap them…” Pause for dramatic effect. Wait for her spirit to almost be broken. That's it you old bag. “I want to slap them silly Lydia.”
“I've never even had an acting teacher.” she says, showing more emotion in these few words then she has in months of rehearsals. Time to switch back to the good cop. God, I'm good at this.
“And that's it, Lydia. That's the emotion.” I say in an emaculate interpretation of someone who was truly moved. “See, I knew you could do this. You're not a complete waste of oxygen.” Hand on shoulder now. Classic director move. “You're not an emotional vacuum.” Maintain eye contact. “You don't make me physically repulsed to be from the same species as you.”
“Why do you have to be so mean? It's only amdram.” Phillis. She's been trouble before. Time to go full Christian Bale. Hang your head and slowly turn round to face her.
“You're right, Phillis, it's only amdram.” slowly walk towards her, but speak loud enough for everyone to hear. Time to punish insubordination. “And in 3 weeks, those doors are going to open, and your friends, family and neighbours are going to walk through them expecting to see a brilliant performance of Puss ‘n boots.” Turn your back on them. Create separation.
“At this rate, what they're going to get is akin to a bunch of feral monkeys flinging their own shit at each other. That's right, an absolute shit show.” That's it. Get louder. “The equivalent of a bunch of spastics having an orgy.”
Okay, that might have been a step too far.
A rushing behind me. Yep. That's a kick to my crotch. That's a wooden sword clunking my head. And now, yes, I'm being thrown off the stage.
The things I do for theatre.