As I said, I presented the shows, introducing the various acts and telling jokes in-between the performances. We played in small venues like church halls, community halls, Seniors Care Homes and so on. Mainly to entertain the elderly, or to raise money for various charities; like a new roof for the church hall, or to buy food for the homeless and so on.
Anyway, one time we decided to put on a show based on cats singing and dancing the night away. The performers were six young ladies, led and choreographed by my then friend Doreen. Dressed in various coloured leotards they danced and sang on stage to pre-recorded music, whilst every now and then a male actor did a voice-over to tell the audience the story as it developed.
On my way to the theatre, a small church hall in a remote village, I was due to pick up Doreen from her home. I was late from work so I hurried by car, picked her up, and drove to the theatre. As soon as I stopped the car, Doreen hurried out and in doing so she accidentally twisted her ankle. She let out a cry and held on to the car to stop her from falling.
Once inside, it was obvious that she could not go on stage and do the cats song and dance performance. It was not a long number; about ten or fifteen minutes at the most. But even so, she could not perform it because of the pain. Another young lady stepped in to take her part; but the performance needed six cats. It could not be re-worked with just five people.
Doreen looked at me and said I should take part in the performance. We were similar size, it would be a minor part, just moving around the stage, I could mime the singing, copy the others in the dancing bit, no one would notice, and it was my fault that she hurt her ankle because I was late picking her up anyway.
Dam-it how persuasive women can be. I hate that. There was no way I would go on stage and pretend to be a cat. Even for fifteen seconds, never mind fifteen minutes.
And so I did ...
Dam-it again how tight those leotards can be. They are made of stretchy elasticated material which hugs your body revealing your every contour. Like ballet dancers' outfits. And it show up one's bits under the material?
Doreen could not stop laughing seeing me in that pink new skin revealing male shapes it should not reveal. I certainly was not going on stage looking like that. Eventually, when she stopped laughing at me, she loaned me her bra which was strategically placed to protect my modesty.
Here's a short sound recording of another performance. Imagine a group of men dressed as nuns singing this on stage. Me singing ... ... ...
