Drama on the high seas

OZZY Osbourne , The Beatles, Ken Dodd, James Marston, we've all played the stage of the Regent. Fame is knocking on my door yet again today after a successful audition to take part in the latest production by the Ipswich Operatic and very Dramatic Society (IODS).

OZZY Osbourne , The Beatles, Ken Dodd, James Marston, we've all played the stage of the Regent.

Fame is knocking on my door yet again today after a successful audition to take part in the latest production by the Ipswich Operatic and very Dramatic Society (IODS). Tonight is the first rehearsal.

But on Sunday I was joined, among others, by Stephanie-the-diva, Lucy-the-plain-speaking-photographer, Stephen-the former-boy-band-member, Jason-the-handsome-dancer, and Helen-the-fellow-reporter, in our bid for stardom in the latest IODS production Titanic.

I walked on stage to perform my little bit of singing and a short dance.

James-the-affable-director, David-the-sprightly-choreographer and Alan-the-musical-musical-director made up the audition panel.

As I walked nervously on stage I heard Lynne, a leading light in theatrical circles and fellow journalist, who was also in the auditorium, shout out in my direction the almost but not quite reassuring words “It will be a triumph”. She always says that.

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Taking confidence from the knowledge deep inside that if I can I pass GCSE Latin and drink a

martini or three without falling over than I can probably just about manage singing out loud with a few other people in front of just a few other people.

Though I am under no illusion, indeed I accept I lack the talent and the looks to be the star of a show, I think I managed to sing all the right notes.

The dancing was a different matter. I walked forward, managed the first couple of steps then forgot to shuffle and bob my knee leaving the rest of my performance a little bit of a frightful blur.

Stephanie-the-diva, who told me she squawked her way through her audition, was rewarded with the part of Mrs Beane-“No relation to Mr Bean though” as she was at pains to point out.

Retching and nerves aside, by the end the day Helen, her first show with the IODS, had been cast as the 19-year-old seven month pregnant wife of a millionaire, Lucy was made a young Irish girl travelling on board the famous ship to work as a lady's maid in America and I was once again in the role of fat boy at the back in a boiler suit.

ALL those years with that spotty bandage.

“Poor Pudsey bear,” I thought to myself as this year's Children in Need filled our television screens, “Why hasn't his eye ever healed? It's been 21 years with no improvement.”

That's a long time. I don't know how he keeps so cheerful.

THE trusty rusty rover has been in trouble. In fact, she was off the road for most of last week and it is only now regaining its confidence and good health.

My car, once, somewhat cruelly, described as a disgrace to the Evening Star car park, had no brake pads which meant negotiating the Ipswich one way system turned into an experience not too far removed from white water rafting down the Zambezi.

Anyway a quick trip to the garage, a brief chat with a mechanic and a painful swipe of the credit card was all it needed to be cured.

I know I'm a wannabe-celebrity but I'd have to draw the line at I'm a celebrity get me out of here. What a strange freaky show.

All those people in a camp and Jason Donovan? I remember him when he was an Australian soap star.

I think I'd be far too normal for that experience.

I'd forgotton how tricky entertaining can be.

Hosting a small soiree over the weekend for a select few honoured to be in the James Marston set, I found myself rushing around Ipswich in a haze of panic as I knew I hadn't dusted properly and really ought to make a pudding.

Well, in a bid to cheer up my little Ipswich sitting room I stupidly bought some flowers which, when your only transport is a bicycle, are not easy to transport.

I then spent far too long in a shop called Drizzle in St Nicholas Street buying a selection of olives. This was only because shop keeper Sarah-Jane said she had never met me but liked reading about me in the pages of the Evening Star so I couldn't possibly rush through my retail experience, not when a rare fan had said hello.

Then, I popped up to the market for a few raspberries and other soft fruit, whipped round Marks and Spencer and raced home. By the time I'd finished opening packets of salad, vacuumed through, laid the table, put out a few crisps and sliced a lemon I was ready for bed. Instead I had a swift Canadian Club and lemonade, just to perk me up you see, and I was fine after that.

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