Monday, 12 November 2012

Grey Hound

`The world is a stage`..and what a stage it is...the audience don`t know when you`re down and out. I`m out there, performing; eyes on, smile on, custard pie at the ready and a squirty flower for an unlucky but willing audience member. Or, maybe not tonight. Maybe this time I`ll play it differently. `2 minutes, Geoff` came a voice rom the hindquarters of the greyhound. `Cigars and cigarettes, the sugar tops, the trumpets.` Geoff moves towards centre stage, the greyhound sits on top of the very tall top hat and he juggles little plastic kittens. A lion with a large permed mane encircles hi,m and there are whoops of delighted terror from the audience. They know it`s not real. And now, for me and I`m Alakazam, be Alakazam...appear and behave as if by magic. My cue is the marionettes falling from stage top and here they are... they tumble and somehow their strings, look! They never tangle. The greyhound is wheeled away still juggling and I see the crowd reflected in his glass eyes, his tail is a bit chipped and the kittens mieuw. The lion has fallen over, this always happens because the damned head is too big. Why won`t wardrobe listen? `Well?` I ask the crowd as I lift my shoulders towards my ears and look about me. Stage left, stage right. I don`t see a thing except for that blinding spotlight. *cue circus music*

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