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Blog: Me, an actor? You've got the wrong script
THERE’S a film crew coming to Kirkby Lonsdale.
That’s an actual BBC film crew. With cameras. And celebrities. And cameras.
So I know what I need to do. There’s no need to pester.
I understand – the Auntie wants me.
She’s seen me dancing in Bootleggers, heard me warbling my way around Gazette Towers and she’s been blown away by my potential.
So of course I’ll take the starring role in Jamaica Inn.
My response is simply: “Jessica Brown - who?”
I can see it now – my name in lights, champagne flowing, handsome Greek men feeding me olives and Smarties.
Kirkby Lonsdale today, Hollywood tomorrow, eh? I mean, how hard can ‘A-listing’ be?
I can’t actually sing, dance or act, but look at the Kardashians – they’ve managed.
And Paris Hilton isn’t exactly struggling.
Of course, I’ll want the biggest trailer on set, as well as a personal trainer to help me shed half my body weight overnight.
But once I’ve bought an oversize handbag and an undersized dog, surely I’ve got it covered?
Now don’t you worry South Lakelanders, I won’t embarrass you, I’m ready to get rehearsing straight away.
So what is it I actually need to do?
Oh. It involves standing in a cold, muddy market square. I didn’t know that.
And gosh, that’s a thick-looking script you’ve handed me. With hundreds of lines. Did I mention I don’t really like standing around in the cold? And that I can’t cry on demand?
And...sorry...is that 1820s ‘couture’. That I’ll actually have to wear?
What happened to the buff men I was promised? And the Malibu mansions? And the champagne on tap?
This is awkward, Auntie.
I hate to say it, but I think you’ve got the wrong girl. It’s possible I might be just a little, teensy bit out of my depth.
So I’m just going to shuffle off – and maybe head to the queue for extras instead...
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