The tale of the TV Detective
By Dianne Inche
The assistant left her by a door indicating it was the dressing room of Jerry Antrobus, but beneath his name some wag had scrawled, “female lead”. Paula tentatively pushed the door open to see a bewigged female figure sat in apparent discomfort.
“About ***** time. You can get me out of this ***** stuff. It ‘s *****agony. This new director’s an absolute bastard. She enjoyed watching them pull this so tight it nearly cut me in half. Then when I said I wanted you here, they just left me.”
“Who?”
“Who, what?”
“Who left you like that?”
“Wardrobe but only because that ***** director said I might as well get used to it.”
Jerry’s language made Paula wince as he described in lurid detail how he wanted to extract his revenge on the director. Even with the swear words removed, the sentiments expressed were not suitable for mixed company.
As far as she could establish, Jerry was alleging that Hannah Murray, the director, had a personal grudge against him and she was a man-hating lesbian bent on belittling all men but more particularly him, because she secretly fancied him and he wasn’t having any. It was apparent Jerry’s temper had eliminated all sense.
Paula regarded her client. He, but to more than a cursory glance, she, was heavily made-up but even the genuine article would wear nearly as much under the cruel eye of the television camera. A black silk kimono was draped across the figure’s shoulders barely concealing a black corselet gripping at an apparently shapely figure. Stockings were tautly gripped by suspenders.
Paula decided, with a touch of jealousy, that Jerry had lost weight over the summer, but what really attracted her attention was the unnatural shapeliness of his waist. This was the cause of Jerry’s continuing tantrums, the waist-clincher had done its job but the price was its vicious grip just below its victim's ribs.
As Jerry launched once again into a tirade against wardrobe, the director and eventually Paula for failing to release him from the constricting underwear, it had become apparent that Jerry’s sharp tongue had got the better of him and he had seriously upset whoever had fitted the waist clincher on him.
“Well, Jerry you’ve got two choices. Lose some weight or don’t upset wardrobe. Mind you I wish I had a figure like that..”
His outburst in reply was interrupted by the dressing room door being opened. In walked Hannah Murray with a smile that might have been helpful sympathy, or might just have been amusement at her leading actor’s discomfort. Against Paula’s better judgement she was ushered out of the dressing room and within 20 minutes Jerry, in a mind blowing short leather skirt and knee length boots, teetered out. She had never found out how Hannah had persuaded him to carry on.
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