figures, as one by one students resigned from the course. This meant that Delaney had to step in at the last minute and play the narrator, a part that he openly relished. Before you could say 'Ooo-er, Missus,' we were off to the Bolton Octagon for our first and final performance. The show was a farce, on more than one level. My heart sank when I saw the quality of some of the other performances that night. They were all thoughtful, funny pieces written and performed by children, some of them half my age. And then there was us. Students from Bolton's prestigious performing arts course, topping the bill with an out-of-date farce and a cross-eyed gardener.
But, as Freddie once sang, 'The Show Must Go On'.
The script required my character to have a moustache and, as funds were short on the old make-up front, I decided to take a trip to a local fancy-dress shop. I was after a real corker of a moustache and luckily they had one very much like the one I'd imagined in stock. Sadly though, it was light brown instead of black.
'We haven't had any black ones in for a while,' the girl
behind the counter confessed. 'I get them from a friend of mine in Hull. She's a taxidermist and –'
I quickly raised my hand to shush her as she'd already provided me with too much information. I counted my change and made for the door.
'Can I interest you in some fake dogshit?' she shouted. 'Two for one this week only?' But I was gone.
Backstage, I eyed up some black-coloured greasepaint on a shelf in the dressing room. I fingered some out of the pot and smeared it on to my light brown moustache. It did the trick and with my newly blackened facial hair I winked at myself in the mirror and headed for the stage.
The lights dimmed, the audience fell quiet and through a small slash in the curtains I could see Delaney taking centre stage. There were a few initial chuckles from the audience but they quickly subsided when they realised that they were in fact Delaney's real eyes and not for comic effect.
Personally I was glad to hear any kind of laughter from the audience as I knew how barren the comic desert was that lay before them. Delaney, in his role of narrator, proceeded to introduce characters:
'Please would you welcome Lord Peregrine Fortune-Mint.' That was my cue.
I bounded out from behind the curtains to take my
opening bow. So far so good. Next it was the turn of my wife, Lady Penelope Fortune-Mint, and sure enough Sonia Cassidy entered as gracefully as a baby elephant and took a bow.
The script then said we embraced and kissed. We'd choreographed it over a hundred times in the boiler room at college. I took her hand, spun her towards me, leaned her back and gave her an enormous kiss on the lips. Then I tilted her up and span her back out to face the audience. That's when they started to laugh and laugh and laugh. I was astonished by the reaction, it was only a kiss. Maybe I'd misjudged the play after all and the night wasn't going to be as painful I'd envisaged. But then I turned to the equally confused Sonia to find that she now had a moustache. Shit! The black greasepaint had rubbed off on her top lip during the kiss and now I realised why the audience was hysterical.
But Sonia was still confused. Subtly I nodded towards her top lip but she was helpless without any kind of reflection. We got through our lines as best we could despite the distracting howls of laughter. I could see Delaney angrily glaring at me from the side of the stage. Well, I think it was me but I couldn't quite tell, as he had one eye on Sonia and the other on my shoes. Either way I knew I was in for a bollocking.
After the show I couldn't tell who was more upset, Sonia or Delaney. I apologised to them both, and tried to reassure them that at least it had got big laughs but neither one of them was having it. My only regret was kissing her so soon. If I'd have known it was going to bring the house down I'd have saved it for the finale.
Something else happened to me
But, as Freddie once sang, 'The Show Must Go On'.
The script required my character to have a moustache and, as funds were short on the old make-up front, I decided to take a trip to a local fancy-dress shop. I was after a real corker of a moustache and luckily they had one very much like the one I'd imagined in stock. Sadly though, it was light brown instead of black.
'We haven't had any black ones in for a while,' the girl
behind the counter confessed. 'I get them from a friend of mine in Hull. She's a taxidermist and –'
I quickly raised my hand to shush her as she'd already provided me with too much information. I counted my change and made for the door.
'Can I interest you in some fake dogshit?' she shouted. 'Two for one this week only?' But I was gone.
Backstage, I eyed up some black-coloured greasepaint on a shelf in the dressing room. I fingered some out of the pot and smeared it on to my light brown moustache. It did the trick and with my newly blackened facial hair I winked at myself in the mirror and headed for the stage.
The lights dimmed, the audience fell quiet and through a small slash in the curtains I could see Delaney taking centre stage. There were a few initial chuckles from the audience but they quickly subsided when they realised that they were in fact Delaney's real eyes and not for comic effect.
Personally I was glad to hear any kind of laughter from the audience as I knew how barren the comic desert was that lay before them. Delaney, in his role of narrator, proceeded to introduce characters:
'Please would you welcome Lord Peregrine Fortune-Mint.' That was my cue.
I bounded out from behind the curtains to take my
opening bow. So far so good. Next it was the turn of my wife, Lady Penelope Fortune-Mint, and sure enough Sonia Cassidy entered as gracefully as a baby elephant and took a bow.
The script then said we embraced and kissed. We'd choreographed it over a hundred times in the boiler room at college. I took her hand, spun her towards me, leaned her back and gave her an enormous kiss on the lips. Then I tilted her up and span her back out to face the audience. That's when they started to laugh and laugh and laugh. I was astonished by the reaction, it was only a kiss. Maybe I'd misjudged the play after all and the night wasn't going to be as painful I'd envisaged. But then I turned to the equally confused Sonia to find that she now had a moustache. Shit! The black greasepaint had rubbed off on her top lip during the kiss and now I realised why the audience was hysterical.
But Sonia was still confused. Subtly I nodded towards her top lip but she was helpless without any kind of reflection. We got through our lines as best we could despite the distracting howls of laughter. I could see Delaney angrily glaring at me from the side of the stage. Well, I think it was me but I couldn't quite tell, as he had one eye on Sonia and the other on my shoes. Either way I knew I was in for a bollocking.
After the show I couldn't tell who was more upset, Sonia or Delaney. I apologised to them both, and tried to reassure them that at least it had got big laughs but neither one of them was having it. My only regret was kissing her so soon. If I'd have known it was going to bring the house down I'd have saved it for the finale.
Something else happened to me
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