成人快手

听Mat -

Hello. This is the Ouch podcast and I鈥檓 Mat Fraser, mostly known for my role in 鈥楢merican Horror Story: Freak Show鈥�, and I used to present Ouch with Liz Carr back in the day. It鈥檚 truly exciting to be back after almost ten years to introduce to you 鈥楥ripTales鈥�, a series of monologues that I鈥檝e curated, all by disabled writers, directors and actors. They were made for 成人快手 America and 成人快手 Four, and if you want the pictures you can see them on iPlayer until the end of the year, but they don鈥檛 need to be seen to be enjoyed. Ouch will feature a selection of the monologues over the next three days in their week of podcasts marking the 25th anniversary of the Disability Discrimination Act.

Liz Carr and Ruth Madeley鈥檚 episodes are to come, but today it鈥檚 all about me. 鈥楢udition鈥� is about many of the weird, wonderful and often awful auditions I鈥檝e had over the last 20 years, with some deep memories that surface to explain some of my inner turmoil, revealing a path鈥� to success? With laughs, tears and even a song, I hope you enjoy it. The set is a film studio, lights in the background, as I sit on a chair with a blue shirt on, nervously awaiting my turn.

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[heartbeat sound]

Mat -

I look old to you, yeah? Well, older. I know I do. I am, so I must do. There鈥檚 no space to see the full picture so you鈥檙e concentrating on my face. Have a good long look. I look old to you, yeah? Well, older. I know I do. I am, so I must do. Auditions are for me the single most nerve-wracking aspect of acting, more terrifying than a first night on stage or a first scene on a new set. Like most actors I can鈥檛 control getting the part, just the acting, but unlike most actors, not getting the part can often have nothing to do with my acting, and everything to do with these. [screaming]

These babies over the last 25 years, they鈥檝e caused commotions, disruptions, shame even. Oh, not for me, I love the power of my magic hands. I love my body. No really, I do. It is the only one I鈥檝e got. Thou, Nature, art my goddess. To thy law my services are bound. Wherefore should I stand in the plague of custom and permit the curiosity of nations to deprive me? I used to do Edmund鈥檚 speech from 鈥楰ing Lear鈥� but it all got a bit self reff-ie, you know? Like, yes Edmund dude, I hear you loud and clear, and so do the 2004 casting director and director. [puts on 鈥榓ctorly鈥� voice] 鈥淲hat a cunning choice. Ha! He鈥檚 speaking about himself in society through a Shakespearean character. How lovely! Clever too.鈥� Hmm-hmm. No.

I got here too early. It鈥檚 better than being too late, that鈥檚 worse. Anything that causes more tension in the room counts against my getting the job. I say more, because it鈥檚 often already quite tense in there. 鈥淲hat if he sees me staring at his hands? What if he鈥檚 crap and I find it embarrassing? What if we fumble the greeting handshake? Oh, God, the handshake. What if the audience can鈥檛 believe him in the role? Oh! What if I can鈥檛 believe him in the role? Because his body looks weird. His body isn鈥檛 normal. His body, his body, his body, body, b-b-b-b-b-buh-buh-buh鈥︹�� Bam! My flippers intervene. Pow! My hands got shaken in between your very practised smile and they鈥檙e normal, I defile. Slam! Dunked in your expectations, my refreshing permutations.

I鈥檓 going to go in there, ignore all that crap in my head and do my best acting performance, so I can leave with my head held high and my self-respect, if not with the job. But the job鈥檚 the thing, the only thing worth having from this. I certainly don鈥檛 do it so they can have their first experience of auditioning then passing on a disabled actor. This one鈥檚 a real actual part, one of two characters involved in essential narrative, school sweethearts that meet again on Skype after 30 years because somebody died on Facebook. It鈥檇 be brilliant! So many ways it can go wrong.

Open door, smile, and close door with glib ease for their relief and comfort. Approach desk and pretend not to notice as they all try really hard to only look at your face. With partial success. Possibly take off coat and put down bag. Make it look good. Don鈥檛 fumble, they read that as nerves, which makes them nervous. Look bright and breezy, smiling, as they ask usually the same obligatory two or three questions. 鈥淗ow did you get here? How鈥檚 your agent? Do you know a random disabled actor they didn鈥檛 give a job to five years ago?鈥� 鈥淵es, I think I do know them.鈥� 鈥淗a, lovely guy.鈥�

I can just see them sitting there behind that scary desk of authority. Casting people, director, producer. That desk, such a physical barrier, protecting their ancient normality rituals. I want to get on top of it, squat down and take a profound dump right there, so they can see their own steaming prejudice in all its hateful glory. That probably wouldn鈥檛鈥� work. I鈥檓 beginning to sweat. My heart rate鈥檚 too fast. I鈥檓 in a state of anxiety. Damn! I鈥檓 even starting to question my clothing choice. This says long lost lover. Right? I鈥檝e got to get a grip. Harder with no thumbs but not impossible.

When I was 12, Mr Proctor, our fashionable English teacher, who I loved, because I thought that he liked me, asked us to write a narrated version of a famous fairy tale. I wrote a version of 鈥楪oldilocks and the Three Bears鈥�, describing an imaginary Goldilocks and had three mates miming the bears. When they saw Goldilocks sleeping Baby Bear said, 鈥淟ook.鈥� Mummy Bear said, 鈥淥h, my.鈥� But then I had Daddy Bear do his own line. 鈥淧hwoar!鈥� Mr Proctor roared, and I was hooked for life to the best drug in the world: audience appreciation.

In that moment I didn鈥檛 feel like the only disabled kid in the school, I felt wanted, appreciated, valued. And it made Carole Anne laugh. Next term Mr Proctor announced a school play. I rushed up to him and eagerly announced my intention to audition, expecting his typically warm and generous response. Instead, I got an alarming, fixed smile. 鈥淕reat.鈥� On the day I waited for my turn to audition. Carole Anne was sitting in the back of the hall and I looked forward to impressing her with my acting performance. Mr Proctor looked so nervous. And then as I looked up and out with confidence, as I鈥檇 been taught at home, I saw Carole Anne laughing. She looked embarrassed. It drilled into my skull like self-hating trepanation.

How鈥檚 this for a character breakdown. 鈥楩ather, 50, could be disabled鈥�. Never seen that, never. I have on my lucky underwear briefs. Stripey ones that are fraying, but I鈥檝e got three jobs in them and now ten years old, are reserved for auditions. [gasps] There鈥檚 a small hole where my ball skin sometimes gets painfully trapped in the leg elastic, but it鈥檚 usually worth the risk.

Four minutes to go. Feeling okay. Should I gesticulate during this so they can see what that looks like, or would it put them off? Perhaps I should do a task so they can see I can manage. I once lit a cigarette in an audition but really badly and the lighter burnt my eyebrow which everybody saw but pretended not to notice. Didn鈥檛 get that job. Eyebrow grew back after a couple of months.

Maybe I could lightly flirt with one of them, so they can see I鈥檝e got that kind of traditional man sexuality and charisma. That too hasn鈥檛 gone well historically. Even worse with women. For a while back there all six of us UK male disabled actors, ages spanning 25 years, would get called in for the same audition. 鈥淚 don鈥檛 know if I鈥檓 meant to be here, it says that the role鈥檚 for a character with CP.鈥� 鈥淲ell, if you could read the lines anyway and try to portray cerebral palsy.鈥� [speaks inaudibly] 鈥淲ow, that was amazing. So moving.鈥� No, it鈥檚 not amazing, it鈥檚 not even acting, it鈥檚 mimicry, nothing more. Don鈥檛 get angry man, leave it outside the room. You don鈥檛 want to get a reputation for being disabled and difficult.

Worst audition? I got one for a new musical about Italian castrati. And I was out of my depth. I chose to sing 鈥楾he Age of Aquarius鈥�. The look on their faces as I entered the room told me that my agent had not informed them of my glorious physique and it took them a while to remember that I could see them as well as they could see me and alter their facial contortions accordingly. This should have told me, get out, now! But no, I handed my sheet to the facially supportive pianist, undermining the last of my confidence with his look of poor man, he鈥檒l never make it, and launched into my high energy rendition of the rock musical classic. [sings] Aquarius, Aquarius鈥�

I worked the room, moving through the space as if singing it on stage, as all three jaws opened as one to my high spirited performance. I finished. There was silence, as three open mouthed conservative musical theatre toughies all looked blank, then shut their cake holes. 鈥淭hank you, Mat, for that. [nervous laugh] Thank you, that was er鈥� Thanks.鈥� My hands are the work of the devil for some people. I鈥檝e got short arms as a result of my mum taking thalidomide, a morning sickness drug. 鈥淚t says on your resume that you have prosthetic arms. Do you ever use them?鈥� I won鈥檛 get the job because they don鈥檛 want to send the wrong message. I will get the job because the real message is that there鈥檚 no message, because disabled actors cannot be bad guys because it鈥檚 interesting casting for a bad guy. Because the casting agent鈥檚 scared of what the director might say, because the casting agent has resolve and the director lives in the present century.

Then the aftercare emails to really drive home the point they don鈥檛 even know they鈥檙e making. 鈥淵ou didn鈥檛 get it, sorry, but they were really glad you came in.鈥� 鈥淵ou didn鈥檛 get it, sorry, but they really liked your performance.鈥� 鈥淵ou didn鈥檛 get it, sorry, but they said how much you brought to the role.鈥� 鈥淚 checked in with casting and you got some really lovely feedback on your self-tape. They were really happy and excited about it. You didn鈥檛 get it, sorry.鈥�

All those roles that could have been. All that audience understanding achieved, that equality imagined. Career highlights. Spilt milk. Age seven, my mum took me somewhere official. I could feel it in her air. She kept looking away. We sat down in a waiting room. Opposite and around me were loads of kids with short arms. I鈥檇 never seen anyone that looked like me before. They called my name, but Mum wasn鈥檛 allowed to come in with me. When I entered the room I saw, behind a scary desk of authority, three men in suits smiling, who said, 鈥淐ome and sit in the chair opposite.鈥� They asked me questions. 鈥淓verything all right? How鈥檚 school? Do you know any of the random children outside?鈥� Then one of them told me that in the top drawer of a filing cabinet stood about five feet tall behind me was loads of candy and chocolate and that I could just help myself.

So I got up, clutched the chair, dragged it over to the filing cabinet, stood on top of the chair so I could reach, opened the drawer, got a bar of chocolate out, shut the drawer and jumped back off the chair. And the three men looked at each other and the one in the middle, wearing a pinstriped double breasted suit, holding open an ink pen, wrote, 鈥樎�15,000鈥�. I鈥檇 just been means tested by the people that deformed me. A compensation assessment by the drug company. They didn鈥檛 ask me to tie up a shoelace or do my top button or lots of things, on purpose. I passed their audition but I failed myself.

Had I known that audition was a means test I would have chin crawled my way across the floor, bitten my agonising way up the filing cabinet and then failed to get any chocolate. I might have been only seven but I鈥檓 the son of two actors for God鈥檚 sake. Yes, I am. It鈥檚 in my blood, in my heart, filling my head with calm assurance. I鈥檓 going to go into that audition room and wow them with a great acting performance and convince them that I am the right actor for the part. Short arms, flipper hands, no thumbs, and all.

[sound of door opening] 鈥淢at?鈥� 鈥淵eah?鈥�

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