Divers and Varyed Observations in Satyre of the Naturre and Characterre of An Extroverte, Viz.

Theatre performers are not like badgers. They do not have quiet, nocturnal shufflings, to be passively and reverently observed in pastoral solitude. If there is not a constant stream of sound and fury, noise and movement, of harangue and grand brachial gesture I believe they would cease to be. They are clearly very philosophical in this. One can surmise that they have taken the Berkelyan notion that if something is not observed it does not exist as their central and sustaining ethos. They provoke irritation. However, I cannot deny an incorrigible fondness for them. 'Them' is a correct appellation, they are indeed a foreign, alien breed among Men, but special and to be preserved, and, I say reluctantly, admired - though at a safe and manageable distance.

It became apparent they are not like us 'normal' people when I sat in conversation with a number of such perfomers. Such language seem inappropriate. There was not a conversation, there was a competition to be the focus, the object of attention, regardless of the opinions of others, regardless of the inanity spumed forth in great abundance. It is a practice made necessary by the profession; where great numbers are tantalizingly close to the glorious validation of the audience yet distanced from the limelight by the membership of some anonymising chorusline, some faceless herd of dancers. The accolades of an applauding crowd seem magnificent but are so diluted by countless intermediary parties they are forced to struggle for the scraps.

The majority of the company that I keep in other circumstances is, by comparison, rather more self-moderated, or at least less conspicuously self-centred. The collective urge to quietly perform the necessary work of the day, to adhere to social mores, lends appeal to the lifestyle of the theatre performer, so obviously free, completely free, from awareness that anyone else in the World exists. Against such mores, in welcome defiance, stands the theatrical type, who has no qualms about being audible, who does indeed believe 'all the world's a stage' and everyone is asking for an encore. But despite and because of this, for me, they are an unsightly and welcome intrusion. Almost exotic. They live, thankfully, in numerically small numbers, colonies in the big cities, around us and yet wonderfully foreign.

Such contradictions I pondered as I sat listening to blonde Disney princess who had just played in Japan. She twirled as she made a cup of tea. Her friend, a man whose camp, Northern accent (it seemed a strange combination) extended every syllable to breaking point, and whose elocution seemed barbarous in its clarity. My friend, with her bright red hair and skin as pale as to be almost translucent was practically mundane in their presence. They were indeed strange aedifices of the performing arts.

In ages past actors were pariahs and ranked alongside lepers and Frenchmen. Now, (when successful) they are the zenith of human acheivement, just as once Keepers of the King's stool was one of the great positions of power, and now few would aspire to such a career. Not that such observations reveal some fundamental truth on the human condition, save that things change, a bit. Perhaps, it just means I can foolishly speculate and hope that one day sheer self-indulgent indolence will be revered as a profession.

Perhaps it already has...