A week or so ago I was idly reading through a film script.
Ooh, get me. Writing books, reading film scripts. I've changed, you know. I'm not the humble man I used to be. I'm getting ideas above my station, and no doubt. I'll be getting out of the bath to go to the toilet next.
Sorry, where was I? Oh yes. Here:
Before you ask, no there isn't a group of 20-foot high people behind us. It's a mural.
So there was a bunch of us doing a script reading for our friend Chris's latest magnum opus. Chris makes films. It's not what he does for a living. As far as I know, his real job could involve livestock, the circus or being the lynchpin in an international educational toy smuggling ring.
They're mad for VTech in the Ukraine, or so I hear.
But when he's not doing that, he makes films. By his own admission, it's a bit of fun and not in any way meant to be taken seriously. He has past form when it comes to films. It was Chris that I hold faintly responsible for various injuries I sustained a couple of years ago when an action scene became rather too active. Last year his film was a collection of sketches and once again I was a willing victim. In one memorable scene I played one half of a set of conjoined twins.
It was not pretty. (This is quite possibly NSFW. I can't remember, so consider yourselves warned.)
And now it's all starting again. Once again, Chris is going for a 'magazine' format with a selection of short sketches. This time, however, he's allowed me to contribute a sketch. I'd like to think this was the one being read out in the picture above. Look, some people are smiling. It's a winner!
So now I have lines to learn - not just my own, but others too. It means I can write 'Filming' on the calendar. I can tell people, "Sorry, I can't accept your invitation. I'm on set". the set in question is Chris's back garden, but that's not the point.
I firmly believe George Lucas is having difficulty in sleeping right now.