When you are involved with a group of people a new problem arises. It's one thing for them to be awful and horrible and smelly and stupid. That I can deal with. I see some of that in myself even. Occasionally, I can even get on with evil carnivores as long as they're not the fucking unbelievably thick cunts that I've been talking to on Facebook recently. But the thing about being with a large group of people, like I am with with the musical, is that you have to find your place in the group. You have to know where you stand. You have to understand how the others see you. The others will have names like Damo or Spikey. That lets you know EXACTLY the kind of person they are. They are tragic. They have nicknames (probably self-given) and I am 41. Anyone with a nickname when you are 41 comes across as lost at best. They hate themselves so much that they pretend they are someone so awful that you would forget that the real them ever even existed. That's what someone called Bozza would do.
I hate Bozza, so let's forget Bozza even existed.
There are other people in groups, of course. They are called Elisa or Rosetta or, even worse, they will have a totally regular first name and a completely insane surname like Karen Hornbugger. Something like that. These people are known as the awful cunts who are nice. They bring little cakes and massage you and read out horoscopes and agree with everything you say and offer to let you kick their fucking head in. Avoid these people. They are minging. Of course, ANYONE with a one syllable name is worth avoiding too. Bob, Dan, Dave, Kaz, Shnaz, Rob, Ted, Fip, Sly, Kip, Tit or Piss are not people that you should ever say hello to. They are bastards with jokes. Jokes and hugs. They put their lizard arm around you and reveal this secret bit of hilarity that is only between you and them and then expect you to laugh at the end of their horror. Their jokes are made up of a very tricky and technical mathematical equation. It is this: A Dick + Something Racist + A Not So Recent Event = A dick was racist ages ago. They will also ask if you've seen Mock The Week. I'm just saying.
Then there are party poopers, shy people, the B.O. brigade, girls with three nipples, the jocks, the git that draws crap on his jeans, the weird religious one, the few nice people and Fat Graham. Those are pretty much all the character groups that you can fall into and when you are in a group and, if you want to survive, you must find out where you sit very quickly. I found out today who I am within the group. I am the one who shits.
Since I started rehearsals there has been NO TOILET. We have pretended that there has been but we are all liars. Often one of us will ask for two minutes. In theatre, two minutes means that you must excrete. It's a wonderful system for avoiding embarrassment. That person goes away and two minutes later they come back eager to continue rehearsing as if what they had done hasn't been the most disgusting thing they have ever done in their lives. We all fucking know that that useless bastard toilet doesn't work and yet when people come back from shitting/pissing and pretending they have flushed a toilet THAT HAS NO FLUSH they fully expect us to carry on with their charade. THEY HAVE FUCKING DEFECATED. THE FILTHY FILTHS! And yet, instead of bricking them to death, we ask them what page we were on and carry on with the rehearsal as if nothing DISGUSTING had happened. Actors are disgusting! Oh, they won't say the name of the Scottish play but they are more than happy to shit in a toilet that doesn't flush. BASICALLY SHIT IN A BUCKET and then skip back to work and expect us to give them eye contact?
But that's normal to them. Actors are wild animals. Not Lions or Bears, no. Much more boring than that. Voles and badgers would be closer. They just shit everywhere and expect us to take it. But they do have defence. They SHIT EVERYWHERE but they never talk about it. I mean EVERYONE must have used that broken toilet last week. Are they saying that NONE of them had a poo? Well, they must have but they are like shadows. Did I see you walking out of the toilet? No? Trick of the light. Where have you been? Nowhere? I must have imagined you'd left...
Oh, they will fuck with your heads but they are humans, aren't they? Surely they are humans? They must go to the toilet?
Yet no trace of evidence.
Today I turned up for rehearsal and was overjoyed to see that the toilet had now been fixed and a "flush" installed. Imagine that, readers. Defecating and getting rid of your waste. It's a dream come true. But, lo! There is no toilet paper. I am in need and yet with nothing to wipe! NOW IS MY CHANCE! I have yet to make my mark in this group. Wouldn't it be great if I could do a good deed and be known as the nice one? "Have you met Michael?", they will say. "Oh, he's lovely. So nice. So generous". And why? Because he was the one who decided to go and get toilet paper. Nobody told me to, nobody suggested it. I thought of it all on my own. I went and got toilet paper. ENOUGH FOR EVERYONE!!! (For today anyway) Dig in, everyone, I cried. I don't want to see a single sheet left at the end of the day!
I came back to the rehearsal room, ready to sneak the toilet paper into the toilet and not be seen. Everyone loves people who buys toilet paper but they don't want to see them do it. Everyone knows that. I'll just sneak in and drop the bog roll off then let everyone know that there is loo roll available. I'm bound to be loved.
Everyone was in the courtyard as I returned with the toilet roll in my hand. They saw me with it. They saw it in my hand. Yet they said NOTHING. I smiled awkwardly and went to the loo.
I have tried to make the Vicar funny and I've tried to throw a bit of energy into the part. I want to be as good at this role as I can. I want to have fun and I want the people who pay money to see it see that I love it and, maybe, the people I'm working with will see how much I love and respect what I'm doing.
They won't though, will they?
I'm the one who shits.