Sotto Voce.


I have a casting this afternoon, despite having almost completely lost my voice.

Thankfully, this shouldn’t be a problem, as the part doesn’t have any dialogue. At least, that’s what the breakdown implies. You can never be certain about what they'll throw at you; I may arrive to find they expect me to give my King Lear.

(Not that I have a King Lear to give in the first place. I learnt one of Edmund’s speeches at college, but that’s about it.)

Even if I don’t have to speak in the casting, it’ll still be awkward. Just giving my name on the door will provoke confusion. I baffle people at the best of times; imagine what it will be like now my voice resembles a cross between Phyllis from Coronation Street and Linda Blair in The Exorcist.

I promise not to do anything inappropriate with a crucifix.

THE AFTERMATH.

I’m pleased to report that the casting went well, despite my aural similarity to Rod Stewart. There weren’t any lines, which was a relief. I also somehow managed to find enough voice to say my name and agent without sounding like a sexual deviant.

Perhaps I can make a living as a silent performer. It worked for the cast of The Artist. Either that, or I'll find someone to dub all my future work.

Bagsy Brian Blessed.

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