NOW the end is nigh. Not yet... but nearly.

We intended to post short audio snips of Endgame in a lame attempt at publicity. For technical reasons, however, this is not possible (blogspot does not allow non-image uploads) so there goes that blindingly brilliant plan.

As you can see from the lack of posts lately, there has been a lack of posts lately. There are many reasons for this, principal of which is the fact that I have the privilege to work with a pack of lazy, snivelling, scumsucking bastards. So it falls on me to keep the rest of you lazy, snivelling, scumsucking bastards informed.

Here are entries from my otherwise non-existent diary. You may sell any of it (or any part thereof) to Hello magazine, or whatever other intellectually-challenged rag you might find delightful to read:

Thursday 27th July, 2006
REHEARSAL

Opening lines fubar. What the hell. Do I think I am an actor? Forgot a prop, so had to improvise. The last time I improvised was on the opening night of Homecoming when I forgot my first line, in the first scene, of the first act, of the first ever stage production I ever did in which I actually said something. Anyway, that is an old story. Lots of blood under the bridge.

Somewhere along the way we managed to get some semblance of a rehearsal happening. Not good, but still a rehearsal. Then Alvin the Complete and Utter Lobotomised Worm interrupts his line thus:

Clov: Sharks? I don't know. If there are there will be... uh... eh... aiyah... heheh... sorryla... I really need to... you know... like... go." (exits, left)

Wtf. Go? Where? I play a blind person who cannot walk. I face the audience. At this point Clov stands behind me. I cannot see. I don't know what the hell he is doing. Time passes. Nothing stirs. I get up and get my missing prop. I go back to my chair. Time passes... the idiot has gone for a pee. He comes back.

Alvin: Ah... eh... heheh... sorryla.
Me: (continues rehearsal. I know he will be right royally screwed after the run and thank the kind heavens, for otherwise I'd get the right royal screwing for having forgotten my prop.)

Actually I don't remember exactly where in Endgame this takes place, but it reminds me of the time when, rehearsing Homecoming, I said to Thor before the rehearsal:

Me: Oy, old man, have you wound up your car windows? Looks like rain.
Thor: Nyeerwooorrmmd. (Somesuch sound to the like effect)
Me: I'm not joking. The storm's over Ampang. It should hit us in about an hour.
Thor: Nyeerwooorrmmd.

(Rehearsal begins. Act 1, Sc 3.)

Thor (brandishing his walking stick as Max): We've had a lousy stinking whore under the roof all night... er... ah... oh fuck. (Drops stick, gets up and runs down stairs into the carpark because a storm has hit).