All Time London Low…Part 2

Thus far it would appear that from my four years of being a London-based jobbing actor/waitress I am slowly beginning to learn where to draw the line. But I have already submitted myself for a lot of bad acting parts.

I remember a particularly embarrassing couple of weeks where the only audition available to me was sold as: ‘actor must be prepared to dress up as a squirrel and serenade passers-by in shops and parks’. And the worst part is that I didn’t even get an audition for that little bad boy. I’m clearly not ‘squirrelly’ enough for London town.

This was directly followed by a (shock) phone call the next week from my agent. As her name popped up on my mobile screen my heart began to race. When dealing with one’s acting agent it is vital to maintain a level of calm in your voice – not to be too shrill or desperate – but to also be extremely interested in what they are saying in a sort of theoretical way that says ‘I get offered an audition every day’. It’s like at school when an attractive guy starts talking to you or (shock) asks you out and you must try and appear to be desirable without being either aloof or too keen and, most importantly of all, not to let on that this may be the only offer of a date you have (or are likely to receive) the entire year. ‘I’m breezy. This is a regular occurrence. Sound Breezy. Sound breezy’.

Me: ‘Hi…how are you?’

Agent: ‘have you or have you not optionally – and of your own accord – submitted yourself for a tour of Sing Along Abba around old-aged people’s homes in the home counties?’ Straight to the point then…

Me: ‘Umm…’

I hear cackling from my agent’s assistants in the background and imagine them supping their lattés and saying: ‘Silly funny Maia has done it again. Sing Along Abba to people who need to turn their hearing aids up to the max to even notice if she can reach top A…ha ha’.

It briefly occurs to me, while my cheeks redden and I desperately try to think of reasons why I might have done such a terrible thing, that at least it has prompted them to discuss me at all.

Her fabulously even, calm, sing-song voice chirps into my ear dryly: ‘Maia, would you like me to get you out of this audition?’ I wonder if this is a rhetorical question and decide that it is but politely squawk, ‘yes please’.

So, in retrospect, perhaps it hasn’t reached a pinnacle ‘all time low’ following the naked-dead-girl-in-Epping-Forest audition. I resolve to screen the adverts for auditions more rigorously in the future. Ooh does that PCR ad say ‘actor must be prepared to lay on the ground in Hyde Park and have insects crawl around their nasal cavities? Hmmm, sounds like an interesting project, where’s the telephone number?’