Today’s literary offering is a submission I read for a bi-weekly writing group I attend in the village of Spofforth, North Yorkshire. For those who don’t know where Spofforth is, it is on the outskirts of Wetherby. If you don’t know where Wetherby is and really want to know, bloody Google it!… Chuffing hell, I have better things to do than act as a glorified Sat Nav system! 😉
The topic prompt for today’s written piece was the word ‘stage’. As the word is used in many contexts, including the theatre, cancer development, a type of coach and deception, it was a locution which afforded a wealth of literary options.
As you will see from my submission below, I opted for a fictional yarn revolving around the theatre stage. So if you are sitting comfortably I’ll begin:-
“All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances, and one man in his time plays many parts…” Prose anxiously orated by amateur thespian Tim Gregg during his group’s production of ‘Shakespeare’s As You Like It… Or should I say it should have been.
During rehearsals he breezed error free through the iconic speech from the Bard’s comedy. However, tonight, first night nerves resulted in him corpsing. Consequently, stumbling through his part in the Beadletown Amateur Dramatic Society’s (BADS) inaugural performance; staged at the town’s Victorian theatre.
With beads of sweat moistening furrowed brow, and sections of his character Jacques’ dialogue escaping him, he took the ridiculous decision to insert random words at the point of corpsing.
Admittedly, a strategy many a stumped thespian will have taken over the years. Regrettably for Tim, though, unlike most people who had to riff in such scenarios, his panicking was on another level. Misguidedly choosing to fill the gaps with the first word(s) entering his mind.
Consequently, he delivered the line “And one man in his time plays many parts.’ as “And one man in his time will visit Sainsburys.”
A later line of “Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel.” Passing his quivering lips as “Jealous in honour, sudden and roll out the barrel.”
Watching stage side, the BADS chairman and show director Ainsley Scragg stood mouth agape at what was playing out in front of him. Wife and fellow amateur thespian Julia standing aside her gobsmacked hubby, displaying terror in her eyes.
The society’s custodians rueing how hours of member’s hard work, casting, rehearsals and set building was unravelling humiliatingly before their eyes. Embarrassment augmented at practically every line delivered in character Jacques nonsensical soliloquy. The audience’s reaction to the absurd monologue an amalgam of disbelieving gawps and laughter.
When Tim spluttered the line “For his lamb shank, and his big manly voice.”, instead of “For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice.”, Ainsley Scragg mouthed the order “Get him off!” to producer Dirk Simpson at the opposite side of the stage.
An equally perturbed Simpson shrugging his shoulders, mouthing back “What the hell can I do?”
Through their dismay at Tim’s anxiety induced discourse, though, what Ainsley Scragg and Dirk Simpson were not registering was that the packed house were finding Jacques’ oration highly amusing.
Scragg and Simpson’s embarrassment at what was playing out blinding them to the crowd’s guffaws and chortling. The mirth they did register written off as theatregoers them laughing at, not with, them.
Not realising the audience thought this disastrous turn of events had been deliberately scripted. Incorrectly believing Tim’s absurd observations the product of a writer, not the ridiculous riffing of a man stricken by first night nerves.
A crowd so enamoured with this whimsy they applauded when Jacques oration finished with the line “Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, Sans Siro football stadium.” The hapless actor forgetting the Bard’s original of “Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.”
Unaware the audience thought his error strewn speech was intentional, as Act II, Stage VII concluded, a sheepish Tim left the stage head bowed. The 30something man standing next to, but not wanting to make eye contact with, Ainsley and Julia Scragg.
“What the hell were you playing at?… You were bloody word perfect in rehearsals!” Ainsley barked at his fellow thespian.
“Sorry, Ainsley. First night nerves just got the better of me!”
“Yes, but you could have at least ad-libbed with more believable dialogue!… I mean at one point you were rabbiting on about Sainsburys and a MOT offer at Halfords for God’s sake!”
“Sorry. But I’m just not great at spontaneously inserting dialogue into a script if I corpse, Ainsley.”
“Will you be able to remember your other lines from here?”
“Yes. Now I have gotten that out of my system, I should be ok recalling the rest of my part.” Tim assured the BADS chairman and main benefactor.
However, he wasn’t ok. Standing back in front of the audience again triggering his nervousness; morphing him into a cullender-memoried buffoon. Consequently, his remaining dialogue was also strewn with errors.
Not just any faux pas’ either. Jacques’ orations including absurd references to lottery tickets, air fryers, ‘2 for 1’ yoghurt offers at Tesco and TV presenter Richard Madeley. Each transgression greeted with uproarious laughter by an adoring audience who thought they were being treated to an innovative reworking of the Bard’s work.
After a standing ovation by a mightily entertained audience, a surprised Ainsley Scragg and Dirk Simpson rounded on the 30something amateur ‘lovie’. Berating him for humiliating the group; demanding he apologise to each member whose hard work had been ruined by his recurring corpsing on an opening night.
——–
Mid-afternoon on the next day, Ainsley and June Scragg sat with Dirk Simpson in one of Beadletown Grand Theatre’s dressing rooms with local newspapers and the town’s free magazine in hand. The trio of BADS committee members barely daring to read what would be disastrous reviews of the previous nights performance.
With wide eyed amazement, though, they were greeted with the following critiques by local reviewers: –
“Hilariously funny adaptation turns Shakespeare’s work into a proper comedy.’ Beadlletown Courier
“Hats off to director Ainsley Scragg and producer Dirk Simpson for their brave and absurd take on the Bard’s classic.” Beadletown Free Mag
“That Tesco ‘2 for 1’ offer on yoghurt sounds good!” Mavis Aimes, 25 Berkley Street, Beadletown
Astonished at these rave reviews the Scraggs and Simpson spent the next two hours scanning a video recording of the previous night’s performance. Hastily re-writing the stage play to include Tim Gregg’s corpse moments which’d so surprisingly wooed the first night audience.
The moral of the story?… Well, I suppose it is ‘All the world’s a stage, and it’s not always the end of the world to forget your lines.’
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