So,
back to the Machine today, whose insides, after a week of uninterrupted
construction, have now been turned to stone, and whose outsides bizarrely
sport – in just the latest of a number of unconscious nods to "Synecdoche NY" – exactly the same lamps as my new place.
Was
progress made today in rehearsals? I don't know. So many elephants in
the room, so few of them earning their keep in the manner of the fall of
the Second Empire (being digested). I did raise the question "Are there
any plans to get an actor to play this part we know we have, but don't
yet have an actor for?" and I think it was generally agreed that that
might be a good idea. The part is that of a feral child. My
knee hurts. Nigel diagnosed that as being 34. I didn't ask our director
his opinion. He was in Portland Place cupping Robbie William's balls.
Thence
to the last recording of "That Mitchell and Webb Sound", where my unvoiced
plans for a sketch about a kid's show starring Christopher Hitchens
were startlingly upset by a sketch Rob performed about a kid's show
starring Christopher Hitchens. I felt I'd come home to an empty tub of
Strawberry Cheesecake unable to remember whether or not it was mine.
Well that's that anyway, no more sketch-writing for a while so Harrumble
(although actually this last session has been something of a blast,
still it will be nice to see what happens next). And for those who
missed it on Thursday, here's the gang in happier times:
Yeh momma,
I wrote that. And I admit to being smitten by absolutely every aspect
of it, so thanks to youtube illegalers "goldsaq" and
"felixulyssesmeritus" for getting it out there, although none of you seem
yet to have uploaded "Jan Hankl's Patent Flankpat" - oh no, HANG ON, oh
no what's this:
Lots Of Love. Does that mean I done a meme?
... coming up this Thursday: Giant Death Ray Sketch.
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