Now that the play is over, I feel an overwhelming urge to unburden myself and gossip about one of the more irksome members of the cast. For the sake of convenience and to convey certain nuances of his character, let’s call him “Richard” – or “Mr Head”, if you prefer.
Mr Head is one of those rare specimens who can annoy just about everybody within a ten-yard radius without ever intentionally meaning to. He seems to suffer from an obscure form of Tourette’s Syndrome that involves him instantly blurting out whatever pops into his head without due concern for the consequences. It’s almost as if he has an extreme aversion to any thought taking up residence in his cortex, so he needs to get it out as quickly as possible.
He’s a reasonably competent actor*, but he spends so much time in the dressing room fiddling with his makeup and preening in front of the mirror with his shirt off, that he’s managed to miss his entrance on more than one occasion. It’s irritating enough having to ad-lib on stage to fill an awkward silence without the sure knowledge that the person you’re waiting for is too busy squeezing his pecs and rubbing his nipples to pay attention.
As I explained to one of the others, “Mr Head is like a laxative – fine in small doses, but prolonged exposure really gives you the shits”