Spleen Venting: Office Politics...

I am working late and waiting for the lift to take me to the top floor to get coffee and chocolate, my diet of choice when I'm knackered and in need of a caffeine/sugar rush to get me through the final hours of a press day.

The lift arrives and I press the button for the top floor. As the lift doors start to close what can only be described as a twattery of marketing types and fashion girlies enter. They then repeatedly start ramming the button to take the lift to the ground floor. Bear in mind I've already pressed the button to go the top floor and it is already lit. This is a sign to all lift users of where the lift intends to go. Even stupid people know this.

The doors then close and the lift begins its ascent to various moans of 'Why's it going up?' or 'I thought you pressed the ground floor button?'

There is debate and astonishment and anger towards the original button-presser. I am annoyed and think bad thoughts, then as I exit the lift I hear it go silent.

I then realise that the phrase 'Brain-dead cunts...' that I thought I'd only uttered in my head had actually escaped from my mouth.

I ponder for a moment. What to do? I may have offended people. And that's bad. But then I figured 'Fuck 'em. They deserve to know the truth. Perhaps if more people had actually told them the truth about themselves and their idiot opinions they'd be better and nicer people. I'm actually doing a form of community service by finally giving them a clearer picture of themselves.'

So I smiled to myself and headed for coffee and chocolate, the friend of the profanity-uttering chief sub on press day. My good deed for the day was done and I'd helped make the world a better place. Hurray for me. Probably...

Theatre Thoughts: Part II...

The show finished so I spent a day clearing out my office and making space for new ideas and projects.

This used to be a ritual at the end of any project many years ago and it's amazing how quickly I reverted to this long-forgotten habit. Of course, this particular show is not over: we have reports to file for our funders; hold a debrief meeting to discuss both the process and what we learnt; and hold another debrief meeting about the production and how we improve it before touring next year.

But I'm fired again and wanting to start work on the comedy play I'm now convinced will finally 'break' me and the more serious project I have lined up for later next year, which may well 'break' me in a different way as the research is quite morbid and involving.

I also have other decisions to make about what I do next year because if I'm committing to new productions then I'm going to have to lose something from my schedule to create the time.

But whatever gives the theatre work has to be sustainable. It's no longer enough to just do good work; it now has to pay or have at least the prospect of paid work as an end result. But having that goal to aim for and making that happen will make the commitment worth it. I'm genuinely excited by the possibilities again. And that's a good thing.

And my guiding thinking on this new road will be a quote by Miyamoto Musashi:
'Do nothing which is of no use.'

Or... if it doesn't serve your purpose or advance your goal then forget it.

It will be interesting to see if I can be that single-minded about this personal plan and bring the focus I bring to helping everyone else to my own work.

Theatre Thoughts: Part I...

Tonight is the final performance of Consider This, the play I've been project managing for the past nine months.

The play is inspired by the work of The Forgiveness Project (TFP), a wonderful charity started by Marina Cantacuzino that collects stories from both victims and perpetrators of crime who talk about how they've moved on from their pasts by forgiving other people, forgiving themselves or being forgiven by others.

The play is essentially the story of a stranger on the run from his past who runs into a fabulous storyteller. Their meeting reveals bits about them both coming to terms with their pasts and intercut into this dialogue are read-out stories from TFP, filmed interviews, original music and songs. It's a real multi-media event.

And, a few bits that need tightening up aside, it works as an engaging and entertaining piece of theatre, too. I'm genuinely proud to have helped make this happen.

The play is my first involvement with a theatre company for a decade and working exclusively on the production, fundraising and press side has been hard work; it's been a bit frustrating sometimes, too, but that's mainly because I'm learning to work with people I'm not used to working with and they're suddenly having to learn to work with somebody they barely know. It's probably been a bit frustrating for them at times, too.

But overall I've found it a hugely positive and empowering experience. The theatre company are good people who do good work and they've welcomed me in, which has been quite touching. It's also reassured me that I can do this again and as much as I can do all the production and logistical and fundraising and budget stuff, I do also want to do the creative stuff again. And not just the writing but the directing, too.

So watch this space... that whole side of my life is up and running again. Only, what's different this time? Well... this time I won't let anyone else dictate the terms of my failure but me.

And the goal will be artistically credible work married to commercial success. And it will happen.

Hair Today...

My attempts to grow my hair long and have actually hair rather than a No.1 buzz cut are foundering.

For a start I have no idea what to do with long hair as it's been a decade and a half of not having any. Quite simply I don't know how to style it, what style looks good or what to use to keep that style going. It's like I missed the memo or wasn't listening in that bit of the male grooming class.

I was so desperate not to be beaten by the long hair issue and head for the nearest barber that earlier in the week I even started looking up hair styles for men with glasses on Google. And it's clear I am no Emo (they have big fringes, apparently) and I'm probably not Johnny Depp so I'm a bit knackered really.

I'm actually turning into a bit of a girl over this issue and I may just think 'Sod it. A skinhead is who I am!' But without the racism, right-wing politics and penchant for violence. Obviously.

On the plus side I did make a work colleague laugh yesterday by suggesting the glamour model and keen equestrian Jordan mutilates horses in her spare time.

So that was good.

Quote Of The Week...

'Kindness is in our power, even when fondness is not.'
Samuel Johnson

Great Sights Of Our Time: Part 1...

I was up and about early on Saturday morning to walk into Guildford to drop some publicity off for the play I'm producing.

I was walking over a railway bridge and over the bridge came a bloke who weighed at least 20 stone riding a mobility scooter while smoking a fag.

I still don't know where to start on deconstructing that particular picture.

Bob Marley...

The missus is a huge reggae fan so one of the things to do on our week-off hit-list was to catch up with Kevin MacDonald's film profile of Bob Marley.

This was a pretty in-depth affair and followed Marley's life in chronological order, from his childhood in Nine Mile in Jamaica to his rise as international superstar. Talking heads included son Ziggy, wife Rita, Bunny Wailer, record producer Lee 'Scratch’ Perry,  Island Records supremo Chris Blackwell and girlfriend Cindy Breakspeare.

It's a hugely informative and very entertaining documentary, featuring plenty of footage of Marley on stage and off it, and it captures an eventful life fully lived then cut tragically short by cancer.

The fact he had nearly a dozen kids by several different women while still married to Rita has also made me change my favourite Bob Marley joke. This once went:
Q. How does Bob Marley like his doughnuts?
A. With jammin'.

But it now goes:
Q. How does Bob Marley like his doughnuts?
A. While fucking lots of different women.

Fortunately the film is better than my gags. And it's also made me go through the Marley musical back catalogue, which remains a thing of beauty.

Kapow!

Today I enjoyed a day out with the Boy at Kapow! Comic Convention.

I was a major comics geek through my pre-teens to mid-teens and then again in my late twenties to mid-thirties. And this was a love that was passed on to and encouraged in the Boy. Consequently some of our regular bonding sessions (insert rude but slightly sick incest gag in here) involved trips to London to tour the comic shops.

So the fact the two of us were going here after a few years away from this sort of shenanigans was part deja vu and part I-may-be-getting-back-into-this-again. I've always fancied a go at comic writing and I certainly know enough about the medium to give it a good go.

We had a fab day and the Boy guided me around, which was quite cool.

I also saw two very good panel discussions/QandA affairs. The first was with some of the head honchos from Marvel who talked about their own experiences of getting into the comics industry. The main advice was: make your own opportunities because talent and persistence equals success.

The second was with Warren Ellis, one of my favourite writers of the past two decades. He sounded quite disillusioned with the whole comics industry, citing the fact it seems pretty much in thrall to the movie industry. One story he told about this concerned a mini series I bought about Nick Fury.

The series essentially pitted old spy and Cold War warhouse Fury against the new bright young things running Shield who viewed him as something of an anachronism, a relic of a past era when wars were fought with guns and not hi-tech spyware and surgical strikes. Then a banana republic in South-East Asia erupts and Fury is needed. The series was very good and had a lot to say about global politics and was refreshingly politically incorrect in its world view. It was a very good comic book that was well written and beautifully drawn.

But Warren Ellis said this series essentially got one established and very good comics editor the sack because it affected a deal about a Nick Fury movie linked to George Clooney. A case of the movie tail now wagging the comics dog if ever there was one.

Two artists I saw who also really impressed me doing sketches for fans were Craig Wilson and Becky Cloonan. Both were really nice with people and made time for everyone who came to their tables. I'll certainly buy their work and give it a chance in the future on the back of seeing them in action.

A very good day with the Boy. And I even bought a few more things to read. Which is good if I'm going to write one this year...

Misterman...

I went to the National Theatre with the Missus to see Misterman this week. And it was stunning.

It's a one-man play written by Irish writer Enda Walsh and it stars Cillian Murphy of 28 Days Later fame as fierce evangelist Thomas Magill and various other characters. The play follows Magill over the course of several days as he goes about the business of saving the souls of folk in his home town of Innishfree.

What starts off as funny and quaint gradually descends into horror and tragedy as Magill realises everybody is way past redemption and his grip on the fine lines between fantasy and reality becomes rapidly blurred; think an extended episode of Father Ted written by a Samuel Beckett possessed by the Marquis de Sade and Stephen King and you're sort of there.

The writing felt like it could have been a bit tighter in places but overall the script was pretty brilliant and Walsh more than made up for this by directing and staging the show in one of the most inventive ways I've seen in a long time.

The star of the show, however, was Murphy. I am under no illusion that the Missus would have me dumped and divorced faster than shit goes through a goose if he ever turned up in our bedroom, so I realised in another world I could be watching a potential love rival. But even I was won over. To quote one of my friends who saw the show: 'So that's what real acting is!'

As a writer it's good to see productions that raise the bar. It makes you want to up your own game. And this was one such production.

Epiphany: Part II...

So... A talk to two or three trusted friends, a meeting in a pub with a director friend, a quick three-year business plan scribbled on the back of sheet of script notes and a potential new Fringe theatre company for London is all there. I've even worked out how I can fund it.

All I need to do now is take the chance and make it happen. When you have the will and the belief it's as easy as that...

Epiphany: Part I...

I am not the religious type. I did try it when I was about 13 or 14 but it wasn't really for me.

Then when I got older and started reading up on religion and getting interested in sociology and history my views on religion somewhat hardened as the body count from religious wars started to stack up. And although some religious tolerance has remained, that hardening of view about religion being largely about control and oppression remains my default position.

But I have recently had something of an epiphany. And there were no churches involved. Or any religion of any kind. There was an issue of faith, though...

I'm been back involved with a theatre company for about six months now and I'm project managing their latest - and most ambitious - show. They're a good bunch of people who do credible work and the fact they've invited a relative stranger in and given him such a responsible role either shows they have faith in me and my background. Or they were desperate. Fortunately, I think it was the former rather than the latter.

And much as I'm enjoying doing the work and working with the company on what promises to be a very worthwhile project, it did open my eyes to the fact that I can still do all of this. I had rather stupidly let one bad experience a decade ago stop me creating and devising and directing... and more importantly working with like-minded people.

And the more I thought through this the more I realised I could do this all again for my own work employing actors I now and working with writers I liked. That was the moment of epiphany.

I'm obviously committed to this and another project for the time being. But there is a seed of an idea there... and given enough time it may just start to grow again.

Happy Birthday...

I am 43 on Saturday and the Missus is asking what I want on my birthday.
'I'd like a new Mac.'
'OK.'
'I'd like to have a lazy morning in bed, too...'
'OK.'
'I'd also like to go and and play pool in the afternoon because I've got a match on Sunday...'
'OK.'
'Then I'd really like to have a nice curry with cheesecake for afters at home, then curl up on the sofa with you and watch a bad movie...'
'OK.'
'And if you could be nice to me for a sustained period of time that would also be good.'

There is a pause.
'You always have to push your luck, don't you?'

Guess that's a no to that request, then.

Wax On, Wax Off...

I have hair for the first time in about 16 years.

My normal routine is to go to the barber's whenever it gets about an inch long and get it shaved back to a No.1. But I haven't done this for a while and now it's quite long. For me.

The only problem is I don't know what to do with it or how to style it. I simply don't have the know-how. To rectify this, however, I bought some hair wax and decided to give it a go one morning. It didn't go well.

The Missus entered the bedroom to catch me with white, gloopy stuff all over my hands and my hair going off in several directions at once. I got a pitying look, the sort of look reserved for a child whose mother has just caught him using his new paints on the wall because he didn't know the wallpaper wasn't a canvas. Then I got a sigh as she gestured for me to hand the hair wax over while she set about rectifying the mess I'd made.

The Missus may have married an idiot...

Money, Money, Money...

In a previous life I was a theatre writer, producer and director for a wide range of fringe, youth and large-scale community arts groups.

That particular chapter ended when one theatre company I was involved in disintegrated amid acrimony and some sadness. But I'm now back involved with a Guildford-based theatre company and I'm project-managing their latest production.

We started applying for grants at the end of last year and I've been heavily involved in this process and so far we've won a £10k award from the Arts Council and about £7k from three other funding bodies.

It's nice to realise I still know what I'm doing... but it's also sad to think of the decade I stopped doing it. On the plus side I was building a contented family life with the Missus and the Boy so it was very fruitful in other ways.

It's good to be back amid the thick of a production, though. If I enjoy the experience I may well stick around and do another one...

Grapple...

I'm working on rewrites for Melt but now also up and running with a new play about Catch Wrestling.

It's called Grapple and is going to be about how the birth of MMA is linked to a wrestling gym called The Snake Pit in Lancashire. It's also a bromance. Of sorts.

It's also loosely based on fact. Sort of...

Here's the opening scene.

****************************************************************

SCENE 1: INTERIOR. EZRA’S ROOM. RETIREMENT HOME.
Ezra sits in his arm chair. He is sixtysomething and solid. He wears thick glasses. His clothes suggest a wardrobe that hasn’t been updated since the early 1990s but out of necessity rather than choice. A walking frame is by the side of the chair. He uses this whenever he gets up and has to move around the room. His accent is also a strange hybrid of Lancashire and American. Ezra sits and stares at Chuck. Chuck is in his late twenties and he is lean. His clothes are fashionable and expensive. He wears jeans, a jacket and a t-shirt. He is nervous. He is American.

EZRA
Cuppa before we start?

CHUCK
A cuppa?

EZRA
Tea. Cuppa tea.

CHUCK
I don’t drink tea. Do you have coffee?

EZRA
Yes…

CHUCK
Well I’ll…

EZRA
…but it tastes like something a horse pisses out. And that would be a sick horse, too, a sick horse with a very severe bladder infection.

CHUCK
A very severe bladder infection?

EZRA
They buy the coffee in bulk to save money. But it’s cheap stuff… really cheap stuff… so it saves money but no sod drinks it. And because no sod drinks it they never have to restock it. So it saves them even more money. The buggers who run this place have probably bought… What’s an expensive car?

CHUCK
A Porsche…

EZRA
Yes. One of them… they’ve probably bought Porsches on the money they save from never having to restock coffee here.

CHUCK
Tea will be just fine.

EZRA
Smart move. (Shouting) Rose! You about?

ROSE
(Off-stage) Use the buzzer, Ezra. It’s what it’s there for.

EZRA
(Shouting) The buzzer’s over the other side of the room. I might collapse trying to reach it!

Enter Rose. She is an orderly. She is 40 and wears a nylon uniform that is part cleaner and part care professional.

EZRA
Love of my life…

ROSE
You bloody well wish…

EZRA
If I was 20 years younger…

Rose
You’d still be far too old. And I’m not getting passionate with a man whose hip may collapse at any moment.

EZRA
Lightning can’t strike twice.

ROSE
Knowing my bloody luck, it can. What do you want?

EZRA
Two cups of your finest tea, my love.

ROSE
(Turning to Chuck) We do coffee, too…

CHUCK
Tea’s just fine. Thank-you…

ROSE
We have posh coffee. We’ve got one them café-ti-ere things.

EZRA
I’ve been here 10 years and you’ve not once offered me posh coffee.

ROSE
It’s for guests only.

EZRA
Aren’t I a guest?

ROSE
You’re a resident.

EZRA
Well that means I’m a just guest who’s just decided to stay longer…

ROSE
You’re a resident.

EZRA
More like a bloody prisoner at times…

ROSE
And as to the best of my knowledge you’ve never had a guest so you wouldn’t know the protocol.

EZRA
They should shove their protocol up their bloody ar…

ROSE
Oh shut up you silly old bugger. (To Chuck) Do you want biscuits?

Chuck looks at Ezra. Ezra makes a face to suggest the biscuits will probably be worse than the coffee.

CHUCK
Posh coffee will be just fine, thank-you.

ROSE
Lovely…

Rose exits.

CHUCK
She seems nice…

EZRA
Best bloody thing in here. Only reason I stay…

CHUCK
Really?

EZRA
Among other things…

CHUCK
I don’t mean to be rude… but does anybody here know who you are?

EZRA
That’s who I used to be, son. This is who I am now.

CHUCK
But somebody must have some sort of idea?

EZRA
No bugger’s interested, son. If I was a young lass getting her bits out on telly then I’d have a fighting chance of getting somewhere. But nobody cares about who I used to be.

CHUCK
Who you still are…

EZRA
Your letter was very sweet, son, and it’s lovely to meet you, and I’m flattered that you’ve traveled so far to see me, even though I told you to spend the air fare on your young lass… but I’m afraid those days are long gone…

CHUCK
What if they’re not?

EZRA
Look at me. And I mean look at me properly… I’ve got arthritis in both knees, I need a walking frame to move from here to the piss house, and even when I get there there’s no guarantee the journey’ll have been worth the effort. I’m not sure how I can help you…

CHUCK
You’re still OK upstairs, though?

EZRA
The noddle pot? Still works fine, Buck…

CHUCK
Chuck.

EZRA
It works fine most of the time…

CHUCK
Well at least listen to what I have to say.

EZRA
I’ll certainly do that, son. I owe you that much seeing as how you’ve traveled so far.

Enter Rose with a tea tray with two cups on it.

ROSE
Sadly there’s no tea and no posh coffee so I’ve made you both normal coffee.

Ezra sighs. Chucks takes his. Rose looks at him expectantly seeking approval. Chuck and takes a drink. He looks like he’s about to gag but holds it together and swallows the coffee as Rose looks on.

CHUCK
(Hiding his gag reflex) Thanks…

Rose smiles and exits.

EZRA
Is your noddle pot working, son? Did you not listen to what I said about the coffee?

CHUCK
I was being polite.

EZRA
By poisoning yourself?

CHUCK
I didn’t want to offend Rose.

EZRA
You berk…

CHUCK
Berk?

EZRA
It’s rhyming slang. From London. It means Berkshire hunt… which rhymes with cu… Never mind. Go on… tell me what you want with a battered old man called Ezra…

Blackout. As Ezra utters his name and the lights black out there is shouting coming from off-stage saying the name ‘Ezra’. This builds to a chorus of people shouting the name to set the next scene. Cut to…

A Load Of Old Balls: Part II...

The trip to Yarmouth to play at the National Inter-county Eightball Pool Championships was pretty poor.

As a team we didn't really perform very well until the last match and I didn't have too much in the way of clear-cut chances in my games. Throw in a bit of bad luck and it wasn't great individually either.

The great thing about going to an elite competition, though, is it allows you to see how you compare against the best of your peers. As a team we just came up a bit short and individually I also just came up a bit short. I wasn't the only one, though.

But I had a good season last year and played some decent stuff along the way to help get us to Yarmouth, and I've also started this season pretty well this year and I'm putting the hours in on the practice table again.

Every year I think it will be my last season as a lot of my pool-playing peers have now retired. But I'm really enjoying playing again and my form's starting to return so there may be life in the old dog yet.

It's 15 years and counting doing this. I could make it 16 at this rate...

A Load Of Balls: Part I...

It's March so it's time to head to the National Inter-county Eightball Pool Championships at Great Yarmouth.

I've been going to pool events here for more than 20 years, whether it be county, interleague or three-man team competitions, and the novelty of staying in a cold caravan park with over-priced beer where the only respite is to head into Great Yarmouth to sample the 'delights' of its seafront nightlife wore off many years ago.

The golden rule used to be 'What happens in Yarmouth stays in Yarmouth'. Not that anything did ever happen for me. It's never been what I was or what I wanted. So I tended to just get drunk. But even that's changed these days. Far too old to do that now. I can't bear the hangovers any more...

So me and the Missus are curled up on the sofa the night before I go and we're discussing what delights the weekend will bring and the Missus offers her wisdom:
'Just don't bring any sexually transmitted diseases back.'
'I won't. But if I do pull I'll pretend it's you while I'm fucking them.'
'It's fine,' counters the Missus. 'I often pretend you're other people when I'm fucking you.'

I married well...

Other Woman News...

The Other Woman is in the middle of grading for her black belt at hapkido.

The way the grading works is that you do a physical test (techniques, forms, sparring, board breaking)... then if you pass that you have to sit a written after three months of continual assessment and do some more techniques... then if you pass that you've got another three months of continual assessment ahead. It's a grueling but very rewarding process.

I went through it from 2010-2011 so I've spent some time with the Other Woman as her practice punch bag and rag doll to be tossed around. And yesterday she gave me a present she'd made (along with her mum and her aunty) to say thanks.

So now I have my very own knitted ninja (pictured). How cool is that? I didn't think I could love my Other Woman any more than I do but she's found a way to make that happen.

She may very well be a genius.

Quote Of The Day...

'Television is a medium because anything well done is rare.'
Fred Allen

Although I must confess I did enjoy Sherlock. That was very well done.

Melt: The Readthrough...

My first play reading in 10 years has been and gone.

The dialogue rattled along and worked, the gags worked – and in some cases should have been filthier – and the new structure hung together pretty well and was an improvement on the first three drafts.

There were obviously some problems that I noticed, even if nobody else did: the central character still needs to be more at the heart of the play and his fall from grace needs to be more accelerated and from a much greater height; there are some parts where the plot mechanics need to be clearer; some gags repeat too often; and some of it is overwritten and needs another edit. The very talented cast also gave me a few ideas with what they did on-stage and during rehearsals.

But overall my first reading in 10 years was a pretty successful affair and has really galvanised me going into the rewrites.

I was also really touched that a lot of the people I love were there to support me: the Missus, the Other Woman, the Other Woman Who Loves Other Women, several of my pool-playing pals, my martial arts teacher and her wife, etc.

And they all laughed at the show's best two gags. One involved a game about a porn film title, 'Glad-he-ate-her', and the other involved a joke about dwarves and statistics. You had to be there.

And, if you were, thank-you. If the quality of a life can be judged on the quality of the people around you then I'm doing pretty well.