All in a Day's Work.

Do you suffer from a Clark Kent/Super Woman personality dichotomy? Oh just me then. But I mean don’t most people harbour a secret Walter Mitty-esque, ‘I’m really a…’ like a Tyrone Thompson diamond geezer or, for women, Lusty Lawson the kitchen temptress? Somehow, though, my internal super hero is feminine, which actually goes along with the common hypothesis that one’s inner id is the opposite sex. Anyway my inner exuberant self is decidedly gay. I can feel her bending the bars of my rib cage trying to burst out in the wrist gestures of an outrageous thespian queen, but she rarely glimpses true freedom. I mention this because yesterday I signed up for an ad-hock theatrical event where Stan and eight others I’d never met were corralled together by Face Book to create an evening’s entertainment out of a one word text sent to Stan at 1pm that same day by one of the bar staff of the Riverside pub where it was all happening. We had five hours to write, rehearse and polish sketches from the one word; ‘postcard.’ From the off I was one-nil down, the majority of the cast being some forty years younger and full of youthful enthusiasm, fast thoughts and eager voices. By three I was 7-0 behind and waiting for the final whistle. Could my inner Super Woman come to the rescue? In another word, no. I was so demoralised I could hardy pee when necessary. By five the pub lurched to thumps of music reminiscent of the sequenced explosions that probably brought down the twin towers and more testosterone than a bulk tanker. It was packed with tight young flesh in tight young apparel hurtling opinions at each other over a din that would most likely flatten a textile factory in the Punjab. I resorted to the only advantage I had left; age. I concocted a slack jawed ninety year old in a nursing home receiving a postcard, which to be honest wasn’t far off my outer Clark Kent persona by that time. We had a run through at 6pm and Stan sorted a running order. By 7.30 we had an audience of six and were accosting loo goers across the hall offering, if nothing else, to give their ears a rest. From the 200 we got 2 so were almost up to the size of the cast. Was it good? Well yes in parts, the highlight being Mrs Goggins exploding life long lust for Postman Pat, and in the process of their love making, tastefully undertaken behind a trembling curtain, terminally reshaping Pat’s cat flat. That was top of the bill and come to think of it I was second to last, so perhaps Stan liked it. OK I proved I was really good at being old but I could have done with Super woman making an appearance.  Anyway thanks Stan and everyone, a daunting task carried out with considerable aplomb.