The play’s the thing… (Hamlet. Act 2, scene 2)

But first…
Dulltown, Europe: Today’s random dictionary words are: crinal, grattoir, misfeign, switchel, inclip, and digamma.
Please have these words looked up and placed in suitable sentences ready for Professor Mouldie first thing after breakfast tomorrow morning. Please note, the professor will be conducting the whole of tomorrow’s lesson shouting through a marine loudhailer.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Here is a resurrected post from my early days of blogging when I was on an old thing called Myspace.

Some years ago I found that I had somehow drifted into the business of designing and building stage sets for local theatre companies; I’m not really sure how it happened.
One morning, when I was in the workshop constructing the scenery for a play, scenery suitable for touring around the country in a van (I can’t recall what the play was I’m afraid) I heard that the local BBC radio station had been persuaded to come and do a live on-air piece of promotion for the show. Oh Goody!…
Just before lunch the director popped his head around the door and said, ‘Hey Dave, when the radio people come this afternoon, is it alright if I bring them in here, and you can talk a bit about the design of the set?’
‘No…’
‘No?…’
‘Yes, no…’
‘Oh, why not?’
‘As you well know _____ , I don’t like theatre very much, I’d sooner see a bad film rather than a ‘good’ play any day. I don’t mind doing the design and the building, it’s a fairly interesting and creative process, and the little bit of money I get for it comes in useful, but the embarrassing ‘bullshit’ promotional side of it is really your department…’
‘Oh, alright then…’ he said, and left looking rather puzzled.
The radio people eventually arrived at lunchtime and I saw them being welcomed and fussed over like royalty by the director, the administrator, and the gaggle of enthusiastic actors.
I went back to work. In the early afternoon the workshop door opened again and the director came in, he was followed by a chap in a smart suit and an unpleasantly bright tie holding a microphone, followed, on the end of a wire, by a sad-faced sound engineer.
The director spoke: ‘This is Dave, our designer… Dave, you don’t mind saying a few words to the listeners about the set design, do you?…’
Luckily at the time I had just a pencil in my hand, and not a hammer… I managed to refrain from the use of expletives, and said, ‘Just… Go away…’

 

About Dave Whatt

Grumpy old surrealist artist, musician, postcard maker, bluesman, theatre set designer, and debonair man-about-town. My favourite tools are the plectrum and the pencil...
This entry was posted in advertising, design, drama, expletives, Grumpiness, humour, information, jobs, people, radio, story, surrealism, theatre, words and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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