We need a new skull for our upcoming production of Hamlet. The founding director of the theatre bequeathed his cranium to us in his will. Many actors and directors through London’s distinguished theatrical history have done this. Why have your head buried in the earth until it turns to dust, when you can remain alive for years after your demise on the stage? However, we must have acquired some bad luck during Macbeth, because that clumsy co-op student Jeremy dropped a light on our only skull, smashing it to shards.
As artistic manager, it’s my duty to acquire all props, sets and costumes for each play we produce. The Bard’s plays always bring in a crowd, so we need the ticket sales to keep alive through the year. The winter months are especially scarce of playgoers.
I’ll take Jeremy on an artistic field trip, to see Shakespeare’s home, his Globe theatre, various other tourist spots. And then I’ll introduce him to some friends who will surely encourage him to dedicate his life to theatre.
It’s who you know, not what, that can enable you to rise to fame in the thespian arts. I know a lot of people with diverse talents, not all of them belonging to the stage. Jeremy will be held aloft under the spotlights by a thousand Hamlets.
His grieving parents will be so proud.