Monday, October 29, 2007

The Nokia N95 is a piece of SHIT

My dear friend Whatleydude - otherwise known as James Whatley - advised me to get an N95 when I upgraded my mobile phone. This is Nokia's latest offering. It is massive, heavy and delicate. The screen is huge and the battery is weak so it runs down daily. It crashes every day at least once, it takes ages to switch on, it keeps freezing, the operating system makes no sense, the GPRS doesn't work, when it is fully charged it beeps and wakes you up, the camera is very very slow - (but good quality - as is the web browser) - and I have had it for less than a month when the microphone stops working completely and I have to take it into a Vodafone shop for repairs.

In the Vodafone shop the guy at the door points me over to the help deck and I stand in the queue. When I get to the front the guy says - "hang on I have to call out the customer numbers". He bellows the number 342. I wonder what the hell he is doing. I have no number. The bloke behind me does though, and it's 342. He says to the guy - "it's okay, let this man go, he was before me." The assistant in the shop looks at the bloke who has stood up for me, and something explodes in his brain. A membrane passes over the front of his eyeball. He tics briefly like faulty digital video. Then after a pause he bellows 343, ignoring both me and the bloke with the number. A teenage boy leaps up and crashes past us oblivious, full of hormones and the joy of life. I object loudly. Mad shop guy ignores me. I lie down spead-eagled on my back in the middle of the store in protest. The bloke next to me sits down beside me.

I have never lain on my back in the middle of a crowded store before. It's curious how much attention it can draw, considering it is such a passive thing to do. Within a minute the manager is talking to me but because I am being very polite he doesn't quite know what to do, so he helps me.

All this was after a horrid audition, hence my state of mind. I went up for the part of The Fireman and The DJ in "Mrs. Norris Plays it Safe" - an educational play for the elderly. I want it because the company is good and I am broke. But I found myself having to lie in the crazy PR firm because they are all lovely and politely interested in my career and I couldn't bear telling them I'm taking a half day to audition for something like that. I always feel awful after auditions. And I did the old - "Well then, good luck with it all" again. Must learn to practise what I preach - I quote my rather smug "actors have no business being shy."

But that's off the subject. The subject being The Nokia N95 is a piece of SHIT! For fuck's sake Nokia your brand can only hold you up for so long. Make a decent phone next time. I'd go back to sony tomorrow if I didn't have to wait another 11 months for my contract to go up for renewal. I now have to carry around a "courtesy phone" which is, dare I say it, even worse that the N95. In fact fuck it, I'll stick to my guns. It's probably better. But I have to give it back in a week when they've fixed my one.

Saturday, October 20, 2007

Grubbing for pennies

Back to the money-grubbing. It's looking like I might get a good tranche of work doing the auditions at my old drama school. I did my first day yesterday and it's amazingly interesting. Also good for my ego, as one of the candidates had seen me in something and recognised me. I did my best to pretend not to be surprised. Essentially you meet lots of hopeful young people and occasionally get to witness one of them doing something wonderful in the most depressing basement room in the world ever. I had a 17 year old lad from Salford go completely and utterly mental all over the place as Mercutio yesterday - so completely all over the place that he gave himself a stitch the poor love. He was the only one to get recalled and it was a close thing. He had to convince people that he wasn't completely insane and that he could be simple and honest. I find myself having to do the same thing sometimes. Bless him though - doing the auditions can be profoundly depressing if nobody does well, but all it takes is one rough diamond to make the whole day worthwhile. And you learn how boring it is when people are afraid of themselves. Actors have no business being shy.

Monday, October 15, 2007

Even bigger houses.

I just got back from Norfolk. The day after I returned from Peru I found an email from my agent suggesting I should have a look at a proposed audition for the part of Victor in Private Lives. I had been agitating to get seen for a part in Present Laughter at The National, so by comparison this was something of a disappointment. Added to which was the fact that the money wasn't great and I was emotionally completely fucked. Nonetheless it seemed like a good idea to go along to the audition, principally because the place they had chosen was right next door to my opticians so I could order some new contact lenses after my glasses made their suicide dive into the Amazon. So off I trotted, convinced myself I had totally muffed the audition, and thought no more about it. I even went so far as to tell the director - "Good luck with it all, then" as I was leaving. Typically, in true audition form, the ones you think you've buggered are the ones you get. So it was two weeks of rehearsal and then off to Norfolk for two shows at the disguistingly vast residence of - correct me if I'm wrong - David Rock-Savage, the Marquis of Cholmondely. I say it was his residence - actually it's his shooting lodge. Which is humungous. And full of deer, which come right up to the house. And stunningly beautiful. And full of amazing pictures and clocks and carpets and chairs. Oh god I want to marry him.


We were performing in The Stone Hall, which was carefully selected as the most echoey room in the whole building. And it was a bloody marvellous job. A great play in a great place with great people. We were given digs at a B and B run by the goddess of food, a sweet, loud and virtually completely deaf christian called Janey, who bellowed at us merrily all evening while cramming meat down our throats with a plunger. As the week went on the cast grew more and more hysterical, and I think our sanity was only saved by the sad fact that we were only there for a week. Nonetheless it was packed out every night, and even though Prince Charles didn't show at the last minute - (This is the second time I've missed him. I think he's avoiding me.) - we raised over a good ten grand for FARA. So next time I go out filming in Romania I expect to see some jolly grateful orphans what ho.

Being back in the smoke is strange. I miss the good local produce, the dogs and sometimes even the fact that everybody howls instead of speaking. Still I wouldn't mind moving out there some time.