Monday, 21 November 2011

A Little Catching Up

It had been many a month since I put finger to keyboard to write one of my blogs and so I have decided to try again to convey the agony and ecstasy of the life of an actor.

Today I had a meeting with Barney (my agent), we had lots of things to discuss such as my idea for a series of one man passion plays to be performed around the country from an ice cream van. However he thought it may look as if I was an ice-cream man having a nervous breakdown. I could see his point but I still think it is a good idea and I will be developing it further with my friend Barrington Dab, who is a lousy actor but a fantastic director. Sadly he seems to think he is brilliant at both, I'll not tell him if you don't.

My personal life is going from strength to strength with Sebastian III proving himself to be the best houseboy I have ever had. Every morning he wakes me up with freshly squeezed orange juice and a boiled egg. Sebastian and Sebastian II failed to do this, which is why I let them go but Sebastian III seems to be a keeper.

Now while I'm on the subject of my houseboys, I wish to scotch the obscene rumours that have been going around about me in that regard. My relationship with these young men is purely platonic, mainly because they won't let it be anything else but really because these boys are my employees and I hold a duty of care to them while they are in the country. These boys are my rocks. They run my various websites and social networking accounts and ensure that I am on time for appointments, without them I am adrift in a sea of Emails, Faxes, Telexes and cards from telephone boxes. So the next time you hear some salacious gossip about me, remember it is all lies.

Dum der der der der de da! I have an announcement to make.

I am very excite to tell you that I have a new website out. Sadly I have to share it with my chum Barrington Dab but you can't have everything. The website is located on the world wide web internet at and it contains things about me and Dab. Well, mostly things about me, Dab has pawned his laptop so can't sent Sebastian III anything about himself until he's raised the money. I could help him of course but I have my own problems at the moment. What with the recession and a tit in Downing Street. Also my chain of adult shops has takes a hit with the surfeit if free erotica squirting onto the internet. Bad times my friends, bad times.

Hells bells, is that the time? I must leave you. I have a casting for a lager advert shortly so need to rehearse my laddish cockney oaf.

Goodbye my darlings.

Sunday, 29 May 2011


Morning dear diary, Saturday was rather good had a meeting with the producer of Holby City who told me that I was perfect for the job as chirpy nurse Jamie, however I would have to learn a Geordie accent, which I promised to do by next Tuesday. Decided to go immediately and get out copies of the Likely Lads and Ant & Decs family favourites.

It’s 8pm have sat through all the videos I rented, frankly I just feel depressed, have tried saying “Way Eye tits oot fot lads” but just end up sounding like a Geordie from Surrey.

Have decided to take a break from my vowel murdering and continue my homework for a new project that I’m working on with Trevor Sortage ot Capital radio. Apparently there isn’t enough cultural programming on local independent radio stations. So Trevor came up with this “Top!” idea of making the adverts artistically valid. He came to me first as he said that he loved my work. He’d seen me in a touring production of ‘Allo Allo’ last year and though my sausage seller quite the best part ever. Anyway I’m off to the studio tomorrow to record the first of the ‘Dramaverts’ as we’re calling them so I’ll post the rough of the tape here, I do know how you love my performances.

Off now, however, to have a hot bath and early night. Mickey Hutton Mickey Hutton…

Wednesday, 25 May 2011


Ugh its 6:25 am utterly fucked and I love you all, I’ve got this bloke here with me and am not sure what he wants he keeps grabbing my crotch. Keep telling him he’s more chance of raising Atlantis the state I’m in but he won’t listen.

Back in a sec..

Now its 8:00am feeling more sober, told random bloke to fuck off!, he had a right go at me accusing me of being straight and liking breasts I called him a dickless cunt and threw him out. Must get a coffee…

Erm It’s 9:00am and was just about to get into bed when Barney rang to tell me I have another job starting this afternoon. They want me to audition for ‘Holby City’ apparently they’re a gay nurse short of their quota and immediately thought of me. Must go and get my head sorted will update you as to the outcome tomorrow. Ugh! I feel sick.

Tuesday, 24 May 2011


Hurrah Barney rang again, he was just confirming his fee for this year, but he did tell me I had a job lined up at Radio 4 reading Pride and Prejudice, excellent I thought and ran off to Broadcasting House as fast as my legs could carry me.

Got to the BBC in plenty of time and sauntered up to the reception desk where I was told to take a seat and wait for the PA to come down and collect me, which she did in a few minutes and I was hustled into a recording booth and given the script I was to read from, I decided I'd do something special with it.
Click here to hear it.

Was told by those in the know that I have a very good chance of reading Gone With the Wind when they serialise it next month, woo hoo! I said.

Well I'm off to the Groucho am going out on a bender tonight in celebration of a job well done.

Saturday, 21 May 2011


Am never drinking again. Apparently while I was dying with the phone off the hook yesterday, Barney tried to ring and tell me that I'd got the part in the Sugarwheat advert. Seems that Jamie Oliver has got his other half up the duff and wants to spend more time with the foetus. The bastard fucking thing was, they wanted to start filming yesterday evening. Well there goes another break, guess who got it? Well guess! Bloody Paul Ross! They waved a pound coin in his face and he leapt at the chance to dress as a sugared wheat fragment, twat.
After receiving the tragic news this morning I retired to my bed in the vain hope that nothing else would go wrong, I'd been tossing for a while when the phone rang, it was Barney again, seems that Michael Malonie is putting on an experimental production of a new play called "Stuff the government" which was written by Billy Bragg and some pleb called Reggie Hatstaff, I mean, what kind of name is Reggie in this day and age he sounds like a gangster.

After showering and dressing, I went to meet Michael - as he bade me call him - in the Groucho Club. After an hour of demanding to be let in and bathing the wounds inflicted by the Concierge, I was shown to my table and awaited Michael's arrival. To steady my nerves I had a couple of Vodkas, well, four or five actually. After about another hour Michael arrived with believe it or not Billy Bragg. I couldn't believe it, Billy Bragg in the Groucho!. Michael seemed to detect my surprise, and said " Oh sorry forgot to tell you that Billy would be joining us, hope you don't mind." At this point I felt every sip of the vodka I'd just drunk hit my brain. "No, ssis play after all he can do what he wants" I said less than eloquently. "Right" said Michael. "Hurgh," said I. Then Billy piped up. "I 'ate these elitist institutions usually but he wouldn't let me meet you in the Dog & Bone." I felt myself redden. "Erm dog and bone phone, right, fuck!" At this point I'd fallen off my chair and head butted a waiter in the testicles, he writhed in agony while trying to save face I asked him for another vodka.

"Right let's get down to it love"
"Don't fucking call me love you Bourgeois parasite"
"Not you darling was talking to Jeremy"

The waiter dabbed the front of my Gaultier jacket I'd got residue from the Bloody Mary the waiter was carrying all over the front of it. Looked as if I'd been in a terrible accident, in fact several new arrival were seen to start and let out a gasp at the site of this bloodstained apparition being tended to by a buckled waiter with tears running down his cheeks.

"Right Micheal am so sorry think I've got a virus or something" He looked at me unconvinced. "Yes dear, Robert Stephens used to get the same virus most days," and I reddened more and took a large glug of the Vodka the waiter had just handed me.

Then without warning Billy leaned over and said "See that girl over there, look at the jugs on that." I looked over at a long legged blond girl who was just ordering a drink from the bar. "I'd shoot in her face eh!" I couldn't help myself it just crept out I opened my mouth and said "Urgh!" He seemed non plussed at this and cried "Oh fuck sorry mate I didn't realise you were a poof" Michael smiled patted my leg and said "Of course he is, he was shagging Jack Muscovites last month in LA, it was all over the US press, right lets order I'm starving"

"Oh, I don't buy newspapers," said Billy. "Anyway, I want to tell you about this new project. What I want to do is do a tribute to the greatest leader this country has ever had."

"Winston Churchill," I said while dabbing at my lapel with the table cloth.

"Do me a favour!" He exclaimed and pulled his guitar out of its case. "I mean Margaret Thatcher, the tender goddess whose like we'll never see again."

Then he started to play a song.

Oh Maggie, we love you.
Love, lovey, love you...

At this point I stood up and punched Bragg on the chin and he stopped playing and began sobbing into his prawn cocktail.

The rest of the dinner went without much more pantomime, apparently Michael sees my part as the hub around which the wheel of the entire play is woven, I made a comment that I didn't think that they wove wheels around hubs or some such and he said that I should try and get something for the virus.

Friday, 20 May 2011


Graghl! shit sorry going to be sick.

Jeremy Tench is unwell, a good name for a play sadly that Waterhouse bloke got in there before me. Christ! I feel like fried shite, I fell asleep in front of the fire last night and rather like yesterday morning I woke with a part of my body stuck to soft furnishings, this time my tongue and the sofa found each other irresistible.

Am drinking plenty of water and am going back to bed.

Thursday, 19 May 2011

Shit morning!

Woke up to find that my head bandage slipped during the night causing my weeping wound to glue my head to the pillow. After showering with my pillow hoping that the water would help me remove it, which it did, I opened my mail. Another fucking bill from BT they are threatening to turn off my phone unless I pay within 7 days. Rang the shit bags to complain but was put on hold for half an hour, which surely didn't help my situation. When I finally got through I spoke to a girl called Lisa who reiterated the letter, told her that I was a professional actor and that the telephone was my life line, she said that she would put me through to a debt counselor. This filled me with hope, I expected a gentle voice saying 'Don't worry everything will be aaall right' what I actually got was a bloke called Dave who told me that if I didn't pay they would send someone around to take my furniture, I hung up.

Thinking about growing a beard, Kenneth Branagh is making a 3-hour version of Titus Andronicus and I want my agent to get me an audition, we all know that Ken likes a beard so I definitely should grow one. Saturninus would be an ideal role for me, I can see it now Derek Jacobi and I in the opening scene, me saying 'How fair the trune speaks to calm my thoughts!' and Derek saying his bit. Hmm perhaps Derek would be a bit old to play my brother Michael Malonie would be better.

Later on I went to sign on, had put a little more effort than usual into my job seekers diary, sadly they didn't believe that I had been training to be a doctor during the last fortnight and threatened to stop my benefits. Philistines! Don't they understand imagination and creativity?

Went to pub for the rest of the afternoon and read the Stage, fell asleep and was booted out at closing time. I'm off to frigging bed.

Wednesday, 18 May 2011


Today was hell, Barney (My agent) rang to inform me that that I had failed in my attempts to be the next face of Sugarweet the cereal for growing children. Apparently Jamie Oliver got it Bastard! he gets all the plum jobs.

Never mind though I have an audition for the Spleen Experimental Theatre Group's version of McBeth I'm up for the part of Harry the psychotic squirrel, so spent most of the morning with my binoculars looking for a squirrel to base my character on. After about an hour and several strange looks I found one, snaffling nuts from a tree in the park. Watching squirrels is dull work and after an hour of intensive observation I left the park with less idea for my motivation than when I started.
Spent the rest of the day in flat trying to find the best way of retrieving a spoon from the side of the cooker. Eventually I settled on a coat hanger which not only retrieved the spoon but made contact with a live wire and caused me to jump backwards at an colossal rate and bang my head on the coffee table. Three hours in casualty! Didn't mind though I'm hoping for an audition for the series of same name so took it as an opportunity to observe a real medical team at work. Learned that I would probably wear more makeup, the doctor that treated me looked positively haggard.