Written on the 19.04 to London Paddington
Oh my god, I just had to go and have a poo on a train toilet, I know, I’m mortified too. But it was ok; as luckily I had my wet ones with me in my bag and to be honest I had no other choice really, it was desperate measures, however I did also check prior, that there was indeed soap in the dispenser and spent 5 mins wiping around the seat.. I really did have no choice.
You see, I’m just on my way back from a shoot in Devon. You know where the wherzals come from. “I got a brand new combine harvester and I’ll give you the key, etc”, cows, sheep, fields kinda place and I’ve got this gorgeous super model sitting next to me, and I’ve already embarrassed myself a lot today and it really wouldn’t help my cause sitting there farting away, then I definitely would have no chance.
I learnt a very important lesson today, well actually, in fact I came a little unstuck and here my story begins.
I had this casting the other week, it started like any other really, all there standing in a line outside the door, eyeballing each other up and down, in total silence thinking what was going on behind those closed doors, what was being said and how can I better the boy before me?
Do you go in and try and shake all there hands? Do you just stand in the corner and give them a sob story about why they should give you the job or should you go in and lie through your teeth about all the things you can do? Can you ride a lion, of course I can! I could ride a lion whilst balancing a spoon on my nose and playing the fiddle.
Basically what ever they ask if you can do, you can, you’ve been doing it for years, and you’d gladly show them today, but err, you hurt your finger… but don’t worry you would be fine on the job!
I remember one casting I went on a little while back now, it was for a basketball commercial for one of the giant sports brands, my agency had sent me along and told them I could play. Textbook really.
So I turn up at this casting and funny enough it was actually at a basketball court in some big sports complex. As I went through the door, thinking to myself, hang on a minute; I could be in a bit of trouble here.
So I go in and sign my name off on the list and join this huge line. Eventually after a long wait, we were called in groups of ten to see the casting director.
Now I was told to take some basketball clothes for the casting, so I dug out my old converse, and some shorts and a string vest, but was very quickly realizing that maybe I wasn’t the best prepared as all the other boys there, where fully decked out with all the best stuff, trainers that could make you jump ten foot high, all the proper kit. I felt like the poor kid at school who forgot his P.E kit and had to get the kit out of the stig box.
But it got worse, I was also the smallest person there, the rest were all about 8 foot tall and then we were asked on tape, what prior basketball experience we had. I was first to speak, so I just told them that I used to play at school but I was really really good and we be totally comfortable if I was to get booked; between me and you a total lie, I was crap, indeed as I was at most sports other than running, and that’s as you don’t really have to think to much in that.
The camera then began to move along the line, the guy next to me played for his county and all the others, were all full time players, this was there main job, two of them played for England and there’s me, model/slash/dj/liar now about to shit myself.
Next to come was the little game, I’m not even going to go into that, lets just say I didn’t even get one touch of the ball or even remotely close to it, even my own team didn’t pass to me. Safe to say, I didn’t get the job. (There lose not mine)
But you see I didn’t learn my lesson, and last week, I had this casting for a top equestrian clothing company, now I knew I was slightly safe with this one as there are not that many places you can park a horse on Wardour street .
And too my surprise after a bit of Essex razzmatazz, I only bloody got the job.
So last night down to London Paddington we go and after just under 3 hours you could smell the manure in the Devonshire fields.
Still not quite knowing what was involved. I mean maybe I just had to stand by the horse and look pretty?
Anyway I hit the hay, so to speak and then this morning, it was up with the cock and off to the farm we went.
Was a pretty little place in the grounds of some old castle right on the river, but sadly I wasn’t there just to stand behind and look gorgeous,
I had to bloody ride the thing. But it was so big and it smelled and was staring me down with its big horsey eyes. “What you want me up there?” “How?
To make things even worse I had this really really really fit super model there fluent in horsey galloping circles around me and I was quite surprised really as most girls who ride horses, sorry for saying normally look like one, there are exceptions and she definitely was, she was hot, but you could tell she was not impressed with my antics.
So after a lot of looking at it up and down and doing a bit of the systems approach. Where am I now? On the ground Where do I want to be? On the back of that horse How am I going to get there? Jump?? I was ready to go, I had all the clobber on. I had the hat, the gloves and these big rubber wellies, I even had this little whip. I wish I’d of stolen that now, could of came in handy.
So there I am sitting there, smiling away at everyone, I was getting used to this, maybe, just maybe I could pull this off.
Then the client asks me to make the horse move and believe or not, I did. I got it to start walking off, all be it, a bit sideways like a crab but I looked pretty cool and controlled, maybe the girl model will fancy me after all; I even managed to get it to stop, and I didn’t use the whip once.
But then the next thing I remember was the client pointing towards the jumps and I sort of half nodded and with a pat on the horses back, ending up 50ft in front of where I previously resided, face down in a puddle of mud, with my welly still caught in the stirrup and the horse looking over me like, “what the hell are you doing down there, stop fucking about”. Ouch, it bloody hurt!
The client was not impressed, the clothes were ruined, and I had mud all in my hair but luckily apart from that I was fine but for the rest of the day I was banned from going anywhere near the horses again and I think they released that maybe I wasn’t the Essex champion rider that I may of said I was. What??
Thinking back, maybe I did sell myself a little too high, maybe I should of just said Canvey Island champion rather than Essex, and when they mentioned riding bareback, I just thought they were being rude, how was to know?
Anyway the moral of the story is, that you should never ever lie, that is unless your certain, it will get you the job, then, of course, you can ride a Lion.