As is custom, we left as soon as the standard applause met the end of the average play. We wanted to avoid hearing people telling each other what a good play it was. So we hurried to the pub opposite the theatre, to secure drinks ahead of the rush. We spotted spare seats in the corner, but as we lunged towards these were waved away by a man who indicated he had somehow reserved these for a party whose arrival was imminent. Surprise beating irritation, we squeezed ourselves into the margins.
The man was late thirties, early forties, tall but portly, with slightly overlong but tight, brown, wavy hair. He wore a blue top that was too close-fitting, a black blazer and khaki - I can only call them - slacks. As we sat and gulped beer like oxygen, he did something remarkable. There was a mirror behind us, and with a complete lack of self-consciousness he stood up and above our heads produced a comb, and to his evident eventual satisfaction, arranged his hair. We might as well have not been there. We were perhaps two feet away, but negligible, invisible.
Shortly after he was met by one of the actresses who'd been appearing in the average play in the theatre opposite. She was a girl more customarily seen with her hands covering her breasts on the cover of those magazines bought by shameless men, many of whom even have partners. Presumably she had sussed the looming end of short-term fame and the imminent beginnings of obsolescence - she'd be in her mid 20s by now - and was making a late bid for respectability. He talked to her about her performance in the play, some of which he had presumably seen.
"You were great. Awesome."
"Yeah? You think..."
"Yeah, and more importantly, so did the Italians. The Italians were there. The Italians I brought over? And they loved it."
"Yeah? Good, because..."
"Of course they didn't understand it. Didn't understand all of it. Bits of it. But they got the gist. The great thing is they heard you getting laughs, and that's, you know, because they won't have seen you in that kind of role before."
"Yeah, I did get laughs, didn't I?"
"Big laughs. Good laughs. Better laughs than the others. I tell you what, I think that's convinced them. I think we're good there. And where I am, I'm got three projects on the go at the moment, scripts, there’s a lot of interest, but I'm putting the other two on hold. Not going to look at them again for a bit."
"And do this one?"
"Yeah, listen, but it would be great if we could all meet them tomorrow."
"Right..."
"I'm sure they'd love to meet you."
"Okay, sure..."
"Have dinner. I’ll call. But you know, I've got something else coming up maybe that I know you'd be perfect for."
"Okay?"
"Yeah, it’s something new. There’s a script being worked on at the moment. A holocaust film. Nazis, death camps, you know the sort of thing. Serious stuff.”
“Okay, right, so…”
“And you’d be perfect for it. You could do tragic. And it’d be great for you.”
“Not comedy?”
“No, what you do is, you do this. Tragic. Then you do comedy. That order. Shows you’ve got range.”
“Right…”
“And this one could be a big deal. A very big deal. If it goes the way it should. We’re talking. Oscars.”
“Oscars…”
“Yeah, and the money’s not going to be a problem. We’ve already got the money lined up.”
“Yeah?”
“Jewish money. Very interested. This is going to be big.”
We’d normally have stayed for another pint, but as though on a secret signal both of us raised and drained glasses at that point, and then made for the exit, not catching eyes. It was either that or have another and get to the stage where I was going to punch him, I suppose.
Pretty much everything on these pages is mostly made up. But this one really happened.
