I've been a little lazy.

I've been a little lazy recently, well, lazy and I haven't been in the mood for writing. But today, mainly due to a long conversation with my sister, and because I'm finally in the mood to write, I thought it was time to put something on here. So here it is.

This piece comes from the first short play I ever wrote for the 1999 One Act Festival at Preston Playhouse. It was devised and written for the young, and not so young, actors from my workshops (that term still makes me think of car maintenance). The play was called 'Thank You' and was a brief expose' of what I'd been through in various auditions I'd attended over the years and failed miserably. And so, probably out of sheer frustartion, and partly to give my actors something to be in, I sat down and wrote a simple little play about drama school auditions.
The main part of the play was about a group of would be actors sat in a room waiting for their turn to prove their worth infront of a faceless voice only director. The rest was individual audition speeches from other characters.

This piece was performed by me. I wasn't going to give this to just anyone you know.

FIRST VOICE: (In the style of Alan Bennett.)

She said, “What are the choices again?”

I said, “A Chorley cake, a Bee Sting, a snack pack of Bourbons, or a Battenburg that’s seen better days.”

She said, “I can’t decide.”

I said, “You’ll have to. Woman at the counter doesn’t want a queue forming. Not on a Wednesday.”

She said, “What are the choices again?”

I said, “A Chorley Cake, a Bee Sting, a snack pack of Bourbons, or a Battenburg that’s seen better days.”

She said, “I’ll have a Goosnargh.”

I said, “They don’t do Goosnarghs!”

She said, “They do. I saw one on the way t’table.”

I said, “It wasn’t a Goosnargh, it was a very slender Eccles cake. Besides,” I said, “You can’t eat Goosnarghs. The caraway seeds’ll get stuck under your plate.”

She said, “Not if I dunk ‘em and suck ‘em.”

I Said, “Mother, you can’t do that. Not when there’s mixed clientele in a tea room.” Well, you can’t can you. They only come in on a Wednesday to check that they’re not in the obituary, and to swap copies of ‘The People’s Friend.’ They don’t want to see someone sucking on a Goosnargh.

Anyway, by the time she’s decided, it’s too late for cake, and when we get home, we’ve missed ‘Fifteen to one’ and Carol Voorderman’s onto her second numbers game. As I make a move for the kitchen she says, “Aren’t you going to wait for the Conundrum?”

I said, “You’re a bloody conundrum.”

She said, “ You’ll miss Richard Whiteley’s blazer.”

I said, “Don’t worry. He’ll wear it again. I’ll just fix you a Weetabix and then I’ll change your bag.”

Not the greatest of writing I admit, but it worked and I've always been proud of it.

Oh, and it's already been performed and copyrighted, in case you were wondering.

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