Stuart Laws discusses his new play The Journey.
Hello. How are you today?
I’m bad actually, woke up this morning feeling fine, there was something special on my mind. But once I had my Special K I trod in a puddle and tripped over a frog. Horrible day so far.
At this stage, how closely does your programme blurb match the content of your show?
It’s identical because I ain’t no mug. It’s a play, I wrote the script last year, you think I’m leaving that to the last second? It’s a play, A PLAY, you have to write them early, you can’t just improv it. Sweet jesus what’s wrong with you?
Who are you sharing a flat with and how will you help each other survive the month?
It’s gonna be me, Will, Phoebe and Dick who are all in the play. Three actors and the writer/co-director hanging out all month, that should work out fine right? I’m actually thrilled that Dick is in the play because he’s a massive bread fiend – absolutely loves fresh bread so that’ll be something I’ll get in on every day.
Any shows you’re excited about seeing?
I’m gonna bag me a Shame Pig (Lou Sanders) and also a Brett Goldstein because they’re both brilliant. I tell you who is funny: Ed Gamble, Tom Neenan and Evelyn Mok. Mr Swallow will be incredible, I’ll chuck in Ian Smith & Alex Kealy too.
Other than the great shows, what else are you looking forward to about your trip to Edinburgh this year?
Trying to get a table at Mother India and my annual attempt to steal the koalas from the zoo
The Fringe’s tagline this year is ‘Into The Unknown’. What do people not know about you?
I haven’t sat down for three months, that includes lying down, I have a vertical bed due to a spinal issue.
I’m bored of all the podcasts I currently subscribe to. Can you recommend me a good one please?
The Spatula Network has a load that I listen, it’s a podcast that explores “useful things” and the different ways their usage has changed over the years. The episode on the transistor had me in gales of laughter and deep thought, genuinely impressive stuff.
Here’s a space to write about anything you want. Go for it.
He stood amongst the carnage, again, it was everywhere. Rage swelled like an unpricked potato. “Why?” he muttered, thinking he was alone.
One corner of the room remained pristine, untouched by fury. There, the culprit had listened and then stepped forth.
“Of course it was you…” They stared at each other, this was a dance they danced a thousand times, maybe less, maybe more.
“I can’t do this anymore” Simon said.
Badger couldn’t answer, tears filling his eyes like mashed potato filled the room. He knew that Simon Bodger had a boiling point and that they’d passed it.
“Tell me why, why do you have to destroy everything good?”
“Because that’s how I’m written”
Bodger took his phone and dialled, he looked at his friend and before the call connected he whispered: “They’ll come for you, so go, go now.”
Badger slipped on some mashed potato, then turned to his friend for one last time: “I should have tried harder to override my script”
The phone connected “I’d like to report a badger that’s suspected of carrying TB.”
Bodger gave location details, hung up and burst into tears. Badger turned to the open window but then stopped, turned and danced a new dance.
The foxtrot. Bodger laughed. That wasn’t in the script. A goodbye laugh to penetrate the tears.
The next day the authorities told Simon Bodger that they had followed Badger for 13 miles, o’er hill, chip & dale before the trail went cold. Badger was presumed dead. Somewhere, Brian May shed a single tear, he didn’t know why, but it happen’d. Years later Bodger heard reports of a badger working as a lumberjack in the Pacific Northwest. He dismissed it as a ludicrous end to a story.
Aug 1-27, 5.40pm