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Jason King Loves Me.

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posted on Dec, 15 2010 @ 10:52 AM
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My arms ache.
This day will never end, my arms will fail me and I'll fall onto the set.
I'll be the tragic hero in this scene and since the series had been constantly hit by problems, it would be quite fitting.

It started again this morning with the foley, the track that the camera moves on, it had been damaged somehow. The prop-hands helped with getting the parts to repair the twisted segment. Then the head electrician said he couldn't go on with the cost-cutting and that someone might get killed.

Billy Mullett, the Director had come down with a tummy problem and Geena West, the bad girl in this episode was drunk again.

I had joined this merry troope from college, they asked me assist in the production of, what they believed would be the vanguard of Ealing Television Studios, 'Jason King Returns'
I know... they told me about the 'incident' in the seventies with the original star and the staff had been determined that sort of thing would not get in the way of this production.

The rising star for this show, would be Brett Torn, a good looking -yet moronic, fallout from RADA.

He had strutted around with his coat (I can't believe anybody still did it!) over his shoulders and a very light blue, silk tie swinging from his Chardonnay shirt.

It was rumoured that the Producer, Sheila Poole, an ageing, heavy drinking, dyke/dom was his mother, who discarded him to a commune, when she was working on that classic of all comedies, 'Bread'

There had been the usual teething problems, a poor script, wine appearing on the set, and of course, the 'quickies' in the dressing rooms.
I have to date, walked in on four events of drunken love-making. The second was the most harrowing, John Bartram and that young antipidean Kyle 'the fighting aussie' Forge.
They had practically destroyed the room with their aggressive passion.

Jim Carter the lighting director, had pulled me to one side and said it was time to haul Mr. Torn from trailer. Yes I know, a trailer, it's one of things he demanded.
Jim was the real backbone behind the scenes, he cajoled the actors and praised the director and staff. He had even helped Geena West with her career, but he and I both knew, it was losing battle between her and the bottle.

Eventually, everything got going again, and the scene was going nicely.
The feel of a good day's screening, slipped quietly into the studio, and even the actors were laughing and agreeing with each other, during takes. Today was going to be a good day.

That was when I'd slipped on gantry four, and now I dangle from key six light, just above Geena West as she explained her plan for robbing the Bank of England.

You may think of me as some tousled-haired Jonathan Creek, gambolling in the stage footlights, but, you'd be way off the mark.
I am balding, even though I'm only twenty four, and my weight could come down a bit.

My mother told me to 'stick in' with the studios and maybe I'll get a break at directing. This was something I'd been learning at college, and I knew it would be good 'hands on' experience.

I had hoped to move the shade above the stage before they started on the next scene, but Sheila had pushed for the last one before lunch and I had crept up to alter it during the 'Gist part of the episode.
The Gist is the part of a movie or play, in fact any acting, where the true meaning of the story is offered to the audience.
There are four parts, The walkout, this when the cast are shown. The Aspire, this when the back plot is opened up and The End, which I think you can work that one out for yourself!

Anyway, I was hanging from a light, and my arms are aching.

That was when I saw Peter Wyngarde.
If you remember anything about the first Jason King, you'll envisage the cast of Department S.
Then the spin off, Jason King, a dashing, cuff-frilled, red wine-swilling ladies man.
His drooping moustache and his lacy cuffs became his trademark, and it was felt that there was no limit to where this author/investigator could go.

The top office were looking at a possible movie, a chance to bat against the Yanks. Of course all that stopped on the evening of June 11, 1977.
Letting the press find out about Mr. Wyngarde's... shall we say preferences?... was his big mistake.
The studios tried to quell the outrage, but alas, the Jason King series was dropped, and Mr. Wyngarde fell away into obscurity.

The Mr. Wyngarde that was watching me now was not the flamboyant love-bomb that I seen on the recordings from the library, this man was unshaven, grubby and dressed in a stained Parka.
His eyes were red rimmed and his hair, that in the past was immaculately groomed with a hint of mature grey, was bedraggled about his head.

He watched me has I hung above the villain, he watched my career and possibly my life slipping away. Has my fingers were slipping from the lamp he moved. His speed was astonishing, he swung from the perch above me, grabbed a main stage curtain rope, and swooped in and grabbed me by the waist as he past by in one swinging
movement.

I cried out and I saw the director, cast and crew look up. Geena screamed and Mr. Torn ran for cover, as we swooped across the set. Mr.Wyngarde landed softly on the main stage with me under his arm, and looked at the faces of awe.

"Welcome back" said Jim Carter, a smile spreading across his face, he was genuinely glad to see him again. Bill Mullett spluttered, and called for security, he climbed off his chair and walked slowly towards Peter.

"I...I am glad to meet you....sir" he whispered. Mr. Wyngarde set me down, and shook Bill's hand.
In this light, Mr. Wyngarde didn't look too bad, his moustache still drooped either side of his mouth, although his teeth, slightly brown with cigarette smoke (he always smoked Peter Styverston), would need some work.
The smell of old urine hung about him, but I believe that may have been due to his sleeping habits.

"Thank you" I said, and pumped his hand vigorously, "I'm a great fan, sir" I babbled. Mr. Wyngarde turned back to me and said, in that sexy, gravel voice, "Indeedy" and the whole crew burst into applause.

Indeedy, Mr. Jason King was back.




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