Notes From The Deep End: How I Met God…

(I’ll give you all 15 seconds to pick yourselves up off the floor.) No need for panic or alarm (or a lama, either). This is not a Road To Damascus moment, but a frank report of Tuesday’s rehearsal- during which I met the mystical being known as Josh (and from now on referred to as God). The reasoning behind the reverential reference is that is how we are all encouraged to view the noble position of Stage Manager. In the past I have hinted at Crimes Against Humanity that I have inflicted upon the deserving unwary- crimes that were instituted and ordered by the Stage Managers at the time (usually whilst I was safely ensconced in the Bio Box). The SM’s word is IRREFUTABLE LAW during the run of a show, and the SM can either wield this sacrosanct power with benevolence… or with unthinkable fury. Those who dare transgress these divinities do not get The Rapture, but The Rupture. Usually somewhere sensitive. And thus, as we sit waiting and wondering who exactly got what e-mail to turn up (or not) at what time, Sarah, Scott and myself are momentarily blinded by the entrance of Said God. Not only is Josh’s arrival bathed in rays of the new found dawn (and accompanied by the hollering of assorted tone-deaf cherubim and seraphim), but it ushers in a new seriousness to the production. No more goofery mid-rehearsal. Malks may be away but the show does go on- under the guidance of new hands. It will be intriguing to witness any Clashes Of The Titans between God and Il Directore in the future… For a deity, God seems a quiet chap. Undoubtedly this won’t last; He’s sizing us mere mortals up at present, seeing what makes us tick. What is behoven upon us is not to antagonise Him, for just quietly we all fear His wrath. At present I am running a book on who it will be who gets up God’s nose first. I’ll post the odds later down the track once I’ve got enough takers. El