First day of rehearsals for Lord Sugar’s Macbeth with me as your humble producer. After the readthrough Billy Connolly announced he would teach the whole cast Scottish. Jedward got lost after ‘Och ay the noo’. Idiots.
To redeem their standing they claimed they have a planet named after them, the so called Planet Jedward.
‘That must be next to Uranus’ piped up Sugar.
Ah, the old ones are the old ones.
We were all EXHAUSTED after rehearsal. However, a miraculous recovery ensued when Billy produced bagpipes and we made Piers Morgan dance for our entertainment.
At 2am L.Sugar gave us his first day’s notes. Gosh, he’s thorough! You don’t get to his level, building Amstrad from Twiglets, without gumption.
God, that George Michael does witter. All day, just twittering and wittering. Am glad we’ve given him the silent part of Old Man.
One week in. Seeing as the weather’s so nice, Nick Clegg suggested we all go gathering material for Birnam Wood. Cue skinny-dipping & maypole dancing. What Bacchinalean revels amid the bluebells. Tim Minchin with his posse of glamorous friends and Arthur Smith supping ginger ale, Piers Morgan as a waiter.
Went on all night. Siralun last seen skipping through the bluebell woods singing, ‘I’m a little teapot.’ Rehearsals postponed.
Posh and Becks started brawling in the bluebells. Eddie Izzard threw light ales all over them to calm them down and Posh licked it greedily. Starving, poor lass. Becks reminded her how many calories in the ales, then reorganised all the tins. She knocked them over. A thundering was heard in the undergrowth. Going to investigate I found Wayne Rooney sucking his thumb and asking if he could play.
Gawd’s sakes, I said, you can be a murderer as well. Bloody Murderers outnumber the rest of the cast!
Lord Sugar has put his foot down. No more japes, no more mooning at the locals, no more frolicking in the stream. Back to rehearsals. Russell Brand got a bit feisty with his hose in the rehearsal this afternoon. Managed to completely undress Kylie Minogue with a water jet.
Special guest Ruby Wax watched the Witches do a scene. She didn’t laugh once. Their heads are in the cauldron.
Lovely Mrs Stephen Fry is hosting a saucy party to celebrate the Royal Wedding Nuptials. All the ladies have to dress as Buckleberry Quim. Siralun.Inc is insisting the cast make bunting to wear tomorrow. Jedward don’t know which colours to use. Idiots.
What a lovely wedding! Curmudgeon of the day was Dave Cameron. As punishment we let Jedward (idiots) sing The National Anthem to him over and over and over and over. When his ears had stopped bleeding, Lord A.S. turned to me andsaid, with a wicked glint in his eye. ‘They won’t need those trees in Westminster Abbey now. Let’s ‘ave em away for Birnam Wood.’
Sugar Daddy & I skulked by the entrance to Westminster Abbey for Operation Middleton Wood to Dunsinane. We waited for dead of night, then I smashed a window (it was only 500 years old – who cares!) and we ‘ad the trees away. Of course we set off the alarms, so we soon had a massive police following. They don’t know the back streets of Steeple Bumstead like I do, so I shook them off and we arrived home, cool as the proverbial cucumbers. In fact we did have some cucumbers because I stopped off at Tesco on the way back to get some munchies.
Simon Cowell popped into rehearsal and watched the Murderers’ Scene. There wasn’t enough ‘action’ for him so he gave Kylie a dance solo. Cheryl Cole started sulking, having presumed she was Simon’s favourite.
To relieve the tension Siralun brought in Stephen Fry in glitzy trunks to do his Lord of The Dance. So Kylie started sulking. This was swiftly forgotten when comedy royalty, in the shape of John Cleese descended on a deus ex machina. He came to teach Jedward (eejuts) silly walks, but having watched them move, declared there was nothing he could teach them. Opinion is divided as to whether this was a compliment or an insult.
Cast are all a-flutter and a-twitter about this superinjunction business. They should all relax and keep calm, you only feel a little prick. Oh that’s injections, isn’t it? Well, talking of little pricks
Jeremy Clarkson drove his superinjunction at me once. The turbo charge wasn’t very impressive.
Lord Sugar-daddy is very grumpy. He turned to me and said, ‘When I started this production in 1967 I didn’t have this bunch of amateurs bungling my every move. I need an Apprentice to run errands. What are those potato faces Jedward (eejuts) doing? Tell them to get their arses in gear otherwise I’ll flatten their hair.’