Walking in the Wind

There is no more pathetic sight than a paunchy, balding and mediocre actor putting on white face paint and doing those Marcel Marceau clichés like walking in the wind or the glass box.

So please take your seats for Friday night's performance of Underground Lovers by Jean Tardieu at the Halifax Playhouse, where I shall be doing my best to out-Kenny Mr Everett.

In fact the play is a brilliant half hour piece of adsurdism. Directed by "that Steve Challens" it won first prize at FEATS 2005 (European festival of english speaking theatre) in Hamburg in May. Starting with a bizarre 'nonsense – but not nonsense' script and shop dummy central(ish) character, Steve has added great energy, humour, happy hardcore music and of course, mime and white faces for all the characters.

I wasn't actually in the original production but one of the actors couldn't travel to England for this performance, so I get to stand in and strut my stuff. Don't worry, I'll have had a few rehearsals by Friday – and Steve's promised to bring a couple of pairs of socks for extra confidence.

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