It’s been some time now since I promised an update on my burgeoning acting career.
The glamorous lie accounting for this absence is that following the filming of the advert I was snapped up by a leading ad agency and have since been jetting off round the world at the behest of Christian Dior and Yves Saint Laurent; that I’ve been sipping cocktails with supermodels, hobnobbing with the rich and famous; that I’ve made millions and then lost it all on some atrocious sex scandal involving Gregg Wallace, the bald Masterchef judge.
The mundane truth, however, is that several thousand pages of exam practice material had to be published, the world cup happened, and I was struck down with gastroenteritis (which as illnesses go, is up there with scabies in the glamour stakes). I’ve also been hospitalised following a botched wisdom tooth removal that saw me ingest gallons of blood, but perhaps more on that another time …
I will still, someday, complete my casting story with a description of the fitting (where they dressed me up as a clown), and the filming (where, jibbering uncontrollably at the madness of it all, I was asked to jump in the air about 700 times whilst holding a film camera), but perhaps not until the actual denouement of the story, where the thing finally appears across all mediums like some horrific carpet bomb of embarrassment.
I believe this will happen in the autumn, and in the spirit of full disclosure, I promise to share this car crash with the world.
It’s interesting though, during my absence from this blog, that there’s been a certain amount of ‘heat’ (intentional or otherwise) around my purgative tale of dancing shame, with searches such as “casting shame”, “shame casting”, “casting first video shame” and, most peculiarly, “casting jeans on myself” all being submitted to the WordPress search engine. Quite what these people were actually looking for baffles me, but one way or another they stumbled upon my ignominy and humiliation.
And for that I am eternally grateful.