SHOW BUSINESS (fiction)
Ah me! Show business in not what it used to be. You see all these teenagers, mostly without a jot of talent between them, queuing up to be spotted; desperate to be pop stars and overnight successes, convinced that they have a right to achieve world –wide fame and a vast fortune. If only they knew! Life is not like that. Seems to me that people today will sell more than their souls just to get on television, as if TV was the be all and end all of show business. Believe me, the casting couch is alive and well, and often, a willingness to oblige in that department is more useful than any performing ability.
OK, once in a while, a spotty faced youth with an endearing stutter or a sexy way of swivelling his hips catches the fancy of the judges, and is given a record contract, makes a record that goes to No. 1, makes a million quid, which is then quickly devoured by the professional scavengers, and is never heard of again. The rest never rise above cabaret night at their local, forever convinced that they just need a lucky break.
We did things the hard way. We started at the bottom, and worked our way up; years of hard graft, and have earned with sweat every bit of our success. By we, I mean Peter and I. We are a comedy double act on the variety (vaudeville) circuit. Peter does all the script writing; I have no talent in that direction, but am better at delivering jokes, so he plays the part of the straight man; which is just as well, because while I have kept my looks and my hair over the years, Peter has aged visibly. My weight has remained constant, and I have exactly the same measurements I did when we formed the act, but Peter’s hairline has receded while his waist measurement has expanded, but I never gloat about it to him. I suppose it all has a lot to do with our differing lifestyles. Peter smokes, drinks, and has been know to womanise on occasion, to put it about a bit, while I on the other hand, am a bit of a home-bird, and content to stay put in my digs when on tour. The annoying thing is that Peter considers himself to be the heart and soul of our act, but in fact, he would be lost without me by his side, whether the old git realises it or not. He says my acting is a bit wooden, while I come back with the line that the jokes he supplies me with are a bit predictable, old hat and far from funny
Because neither of us is married, and we spend a huge amount of time together when working, many people presume that we are an item. However, in truth, there is no love lost between us; we are not even friends in the conventional sense; we are just professional partners, and have little to say to each other off stage, a bit of a love hate relationship really. Yes, we share a room in the succession of grotty theatrical digs when on tour, and because show business wages are not high, I live with him in his modest little flat in Maida Vale, but I do have my own room, which he rarely enters.
I said that show business is not what it used to be, but neither is it all it is cracked up to be. Certainly it is not the glamorous lifestyle people imagine. Living in and out of a suitcase for months on end, forever at the mercy of dragon landladies who think hot water is a great luxury, the dubious delights of one night shows in Heckmonwhite, Honiton or Havafordwest, followed by long lonely overnight trips to the next venue, is anything but glamorous, You end up with no social life whatsoever; the only people you associate with are other theatricals, and that is a surprisingly small, closed world of large egos and even bigger tantrums, of bitchiness and gossip, where everyone is ‘darling’, all thrown together in dingy dressing rooms the size of a wardrobe last spring cleaned for the Queens Coronation.
OK, so we are not top of the bill, but we were household names once upon a time, believe it or not. We even had our own weekly radio show for many years, which is quite amazing when you think about it. For a while, we transferred to television, but strangely, it did not take off, despite the fact that we were more of a visual act. Sure, we were no Little and Large, and not as funny as Morecombe and Wise, but we had our moments.
Personally, I blame Peter. Appearing on television just once gives you a bigger audience than you will ever reach on stage, but that one appearance destroys your act, an act which you have spent years perfecting. The next week, you have to come up with something totally new, and that was the trouble, and it wasn’t my fault. Frankly, Peter was just not up to it; he couldn’t adapt his patter quickly enough, couldn’t cope with new jokes and fresh routines every week, so down the rating we went, and our first series was our only series. Though some of the second raters we worked with have gone on to higher things, we have returned to the supporting act role where we first started, older but wiser.
You may have heard of us if you are not of the younger generation. I am Archie Andrew, and my sidekick is Peter Brough. Remember our tune, ‘Educating Archie’?
It is arguable which one of us is the puppet.
