mostly david ephgrave

The last few days have been a strange mix of being pencilled for a job shooting* in South Africa at the end of January, trying to speed through a passport application in time to get a visa to do it and feeling rough enough to have a COVID-19 test too. Thankfully, I received the good news that I haven't got the virus this morning, which was a relief. The trip to Africa's southernmost point, however, fell through on Friday. And while the job would have been a great way to start the new year (particularly when work's so scarce), I must admit I'm a bit relieved; now's not exactly the time to explore far-off lands, even if I'd hoped to kickstart a collaboration with Ladysmith Black Mambazo. The passport situation was stressful. My old one expired on the 31st December and I'd only just applied for a replacement a few days earlier when the request for a self-tape for the job came through. As soon as my agent told me about the pencil, I was on the case trying to fas...

Much of today was taken up with filming a self-tape audition video for a casting that came through Spotlight. This inevitably meant I didn't get around to the things I'd earmarked for the day, but such is life. It was still productive, though the technology was not playing ball for much of it. For one, I was doing a lot of balancing of devices on top of guitar cases etc so I could film myself - which I'm sure Spielberg does constantly - and then hoping for the best. I was also trying to tick all the boxes of their quite specific requirements within my limited set-up. It was nice to have a casting enquiry come in for a change. It serves to reiterate how different things could be if I had good representation again. When I saw the reference images for the person I'd be playing if I got the job, I could see completely why they'd asked for me, but it would be nice for this stuff to not come up once in a blue moon; just think how many things that could be perfect for ...

I started the day by knocking a framed poster that's been up in my kitchen since I moved in eleven years ago off the wall with the legs of my ironing board, smashing the glass and sending it flying everywhere (My life is all thrills.) It was galling to start the morning with such catastrophic slapstick. It may sound low-level to you, but the sound of shattering glass and the subsequent sweeping up (with my cat at my feet) was too much for a man who'd only just woken up. It didn't bode well for the rest of the day.  Thankfully, it wasn't a sign of things to come. After cleaning up the Kitchen Incident (Guns N' Roses album title?), I walked / ran to Hitchin station, to get the train into London for a casting. I arrived at the suite in good time, so I decided to set up camp on a bench outside, to eat my lunch before I went in. My actor friend Adam Astill suddenly appeared next to me while I was mid-banana, surprising me and then reassuring me about the nature of the...

I had my first casting in a while today, and I have to say, I quite enjoyed it. Auditions have been thin on the ground for the past few months. This wasn’t a bad thing when I was preparing for my Brighton show, as I had a lot to think about, but now that’s done, I could do with some more coming in. I could do with the money that would come with a job - and the great thing about getting an advert is it’s not a big commitment. It was nice to do a bit of acting today, even if it was only for the brief moment that I was in the casting suite. The script involved very little dialogue, plus the chance to play with some off-the-cuff comedy reactions, which was right up my street. I probably won’t get the job – it’s got to the point where I cease to believe I ever will – but I got a few laughs while I was there, and some positive feedback. I’ve been very unlucky with adverts of late. I’ve been penciled for so many jobs that I’ve lost count, and not got a single one of them. It’...

Today has been a day of bits and pieces. It started with me popping to a friend’s flat to feed her cats: something I’m doing for the next week, in my occasional guise as a cat-sitter. I then power-walked to the office with a mic-stand in tow (which has been sitting in my flat since last Saturday’s aborted preview), before sprinting for a bus to the station to catch the train into London for a casting; my life's always this thrilling. The audition was my first one for the best part of a month: for some reason, they've just not been coming in. In some senses this is good, as it’s given me time to think about my show, but I’m always uneasy when there’s no immediate prospect of paid work (a reasonable thing to be uneasy about). I think the casting went well. I enjoyed it. I generally do; it’s an environment I feel comfortable in. It was as random as ever; in many ways, it was more random than most: I had to perform in just a towel and a baseball cap. It’s a times lik...

If anyone witnessed me buying flip-flops and a baseball cap in Poundland this morning: THEY WERE FOR A CASTING. It may surprise you to learn I have neither item in my wardrobe. Then again, it may not. I’m not a flip-flop-and-baseball-cap kind of person. It isn’t a look I can pull off, without resembling a cross between a William Hague-style photo opportunity and a cry for help: little difference there then. I wasn’t sure where to buy them from, as they're not really in my remit. I didn’t want to pay a lot when I’d only wear them once. The only time I’d pull out this tasteless head-and-footwear combo again would be if I got a recall, which wasn’t definite. My initial attempts to find them weren’t fruitful: a quick Google of ‘cheap flip flops Hitchin’ brought up a pair in Shoe Zone for £14.99, which was more than I was willing to spend – and ‘flops’ kept being unhelpfully corrected to ‘floss’ by the search bar on Wilko's website. While internet shopping is invalua...

Today I experienced a whole new audition-waiting-room paranoia: "Does my newspaper smell too much?" I was okay when I was sat in the corridor. Out there, there was more space. It must have had a better oxygen throughflow (which was surprising, as the casting suite is in the basement of a disused factory-cum-warehouse. Not a factory cum warehouse. That would be horrific). Reading it there didn't make me self-conscious. It was only when I moved into the next tier of waiting - the room immediately outside the studio - that the overly inky odour of my Guardian became apparent.  It didn't help that I was seated in extreme proximity to two other actors. There was scarcely room to read a broadsheet. For a fleeting moment, I wished I'd bought the Mail, before remembering I'm not a narrow-minded, BBC-and-all-other-humanity-hating sexist / racist. Sorry Mum. (She’s none of those things, but she reads it.)...

Going for castings at the moment feels a little bit like pissing into the wind. The process of doing them I really enjoy. I feel most comfortable in front of a camera, doing something small, naturalistic and throwaway. Most of the stuff I go up for is quirky or comedic, which suits me. Yet I’m not getting any jobs. It’s beyond disheartening. The frustrating thing is a lot of them seem to go well. I often make the casting director laugh, usually for the right reasons. I’ve been penciled for jobs so many times I can’t look a stationery shop in the face (which is good as they don’t tend to have them). It doesn’t make any difference. No pencilling turns to pen. It’s hard to keep upbeat about it and not let it affect your performance. It's starting to feel like an endless unbreakable cycle. I’m bored of it. I just need one job to break the seal. I keep reminding myself that I’ve got them in the past. I also keep getting close. It’s n...

It must have been a while since my last casting, as the café I usually go into before them today appeared to be a long time closed down. It was very disappointing. I bounded confidently up to the door only to stop in my tracks. The café resembled a building site, with stepladders sprinkled liberally around the premises and light fittings hanging precariously from the ceiling. A sign in the window announced that a new restaurant was imminent. There would be no cup of tea and a Kit Kat for me. I’m surprised that no one in the area seems to have kicked up a fuss. The café was a Soho institution, which, judging from the amount of photos above the till, was proud to boast Colin Jackson as a celebrity client. A sportsman of his calibre would have been the perfect face to front a campaign to keep the place alive. Jackson wasn’t the only famous person to have supped in the Burlington Café. Their Wall of Fame also boasted a grumpy-looking Paul Weller, a nonplussed Louis Walsh and...

‘Barry Scott’ must find it hard to be cast as anyone else. (Barry and the Scott is gone.) I’ve used those inverted commas intentionally. There’s no such person as Barry Scott. Well, there probably is , but he’s not the chap we associate with Cillit Bang. He is a figment of an advertising executive’s imagination; as fictional as the tooth fairy, the Easter Bunny or Adrian Chiles. The Barry Scott who’s obsessed with household cleanliness is merely an actor playing a part. His name is Neil Burgess. He’s got lots of other credits to his name, yet his face will always be synonymous with limescale removal. Playing Barry Scott must be a double-edged sword. While it might preclude you from other work, such as advertising rival products, the income generated would probably make up for this. He should count himself lucky that he isn't Mr. Muscle. What was once a lucrative earner for the scrawnier actor is now a computer animation. Adver...

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 ...

Today I had a casting in which I had to be a 'shy, nervous introvert'; something that was right up my street.  (The bit in inverted commas is taken directly from the casting breakdown; it's a bonus when you barely have to act.) I had to improvise an interview in character, while the casting director took the part of the interviewee. The concept of improv can provoke fear and trepidation in many actors (myself included) - but on this occasion I quite enjoyed it.  I also got a few laughs, which always helps; provided you're in on the joke. Before my appointment I had a quick wander around the outskirts of St Paul's Cathedral, as the casting was just a few minutes down the road. It's the first time I've been past in a quite a few years. My last trip was on the same day an official visit from Princess Diana, which should give you some idea of the timescale.   I arrived just as the clock struck eleven. It prov...

I’m spending far too much time in coffee shops at the moment. It’s become an almost daily occurrence: either to kill time before a casting, or to finish off my daily blog. It’s helped me to be more productive – I’ve more inclined to work when out of the house – but I do get a little fed up with the enforced solitude. My caffeine intake has also gone through the roof; I’m currently shakier than an overworked Judy Finnegan. (This must be a by-product of being married to Richard Madeley. For her; not for me.) The hardest part is the constant flitting from one extreme to another; starting the day with a couple of hours in your own company, before psyching yourself up to walk into a casting. I always function best when I’ve had direct contact with others first thing; the longer it takes to have a proper conversation, the less likely I’ll be at ease when it comes to it. Thankfully, I’m not the only member of my social group who’s ...

Some days you’re just not in the mood for a commercial casting, and today is one of those days. BEFORE: As I write I’m sat in a coffee shop just a few yards around the corner from the casting suite where I’m due to be seen in half an hour. Part of the reason for my reticence is the fact that I haven’t had a casting for a fortnight or so; it’s very easy to get out of practice. Also, the random nature of commercial castings – never quite knowing what’s going to be thrown at you – means you often have to psyche yourself up for it. Ultimately, I’m pleased to be being seen for something; it ups the chance of work and money. It’s hard to keep positive, though, when the last few months have been so full of ‘pencils’ and near-misses. In a moment I’ll finish up my Mint Humbug tea (sophisticated), close up my laptop (high-tech) and wander over to the casting suite (legs), to fill in the usual massive pile of forms (admin) and cast my eye over...