IT'S all over. Ipswich Operatic and Dramatic Society's production of Titanic the musical has sunk for the last time. Nearly 4,000 people came to see it, though not all were there just to see me, as some other members of the cast have fans too you see.

IT'S all over.

Ipswich Operatic and Dramatic Society's production of Titanic the musical has sunk for the last time.

Nearly 4,000 people came to see it, though not all were there just to see me, as some other members of the cast have fans too you see.

After weeks of anticipation, rehearsal and hard work now I have nothing to do.

The thrill of applause, the make up, the after show drinks, it's all cruelly been taken away overnight.

There were a few inevitable dramas, well it is am dram.

Margaret, a stalwart of the society who has been in the business for years, nearly dried.

“I didn't have a clue what my next line was,” she drawled in a breathless whisper as she walked off stage, “not a bloody clue.”

On opening night, my entertaining entertainments friend Helen forgot a prop, prompting a frantic rush around looking for a picture postcard just moments before the curtain went up.

“Oh my god that was awful,” she whispered. “I thought I was going to be sick.”

My leg shook uncontrollably during my lines - despite carrying my full weight - giving me cause to wonder if I had developed a nervous knee condition that was only vanquished by a large brandy after the curtain went down.

Backstage was just as dramatic as the show itself.

My dressing room, number five, was full of rather interesting people.

Stephen, who once performed with a boy band and sings constantly.

Jason, who loves the musicals and the mirror.

Mike, who gets rather excited and never once forgot to reapply make-up in the interval.

Simon, who's married to Stephanie the Diva.

Me, who loves himself and the dressing room stash of biscuits in that order.

Question is of course, what are we all going to do now?

On the last night the question on everyone's lips was the same - “Are you going to the next show?”

Well the next show is The Full Monty and I'm not keen to be honest, fearing I'll be cast as the fat one who eats a Mars bar and gets wrapped up in cling film.

I couldn't stand the humiliation and the audience might never recover from the shock of my bare torso. And slimming down is out of the question.

So after weeks of anticipation, rehearsal and hard work now I have nothing to do.

So far I've tidied my house and baked a batch of cheese scones, but that's a short term solution.

I've already ruled out taking up any form of exercise, but any advice would be welcome.

STILL haven't won at bingo.

My friend Tony, who works there and is three and one, 31, told me he thought I should have called out for a line or a full house by now.

“You've been coming here for more than on its own number four weeks. I can't believe you haven't won,” he said as he prepared to call the numbers.

Well neither can I.

UNABLE to sleep recently, too much recent excitement I fear, I am reading a rather heavy biography of Elizabeth I.

What a life she had.

I'm up to the bit where she cuts of the head of her cousin Mary, Queen of Scots, who plotted against Elizabeth one too many times.

Did you know it took the executioner two swings of the axe to decapitate the traitorous Mary? Rather unpleasant.

I'M going to the speedway at Foxhall Stadium in a couple of weeks.

Rather looking forward to it.

I last went some time ago and I was memorably introduced to Heather-in-the-leather, I wonder if she'll be there again.

ISN'T it a shame about Kate and William.

I know what it is to be recognised and pointed at and it must be terrible to be that rich and famous. I know I'd hate it.

My sister Claire, however, who enjoys murder mysteries and once opened a fete, is planning to seize the opportunity now the heir to the heir to the throne is single.

“I could be an army wife,” she said “and I've got the right shaped head for a massive tiara. He'd have to move to Suffolk, of course.”