---

The Tour: The Series!

I have always toyed with the idea of a TV show based around the world of the theatre - more specifically touring theatre, where the connections between the casts and the craziness that happens to them always seems to be that bit more intense. The world lends itself to a show with a bunch of vibrant characters an audience could get invested in, with plenty of mystery, madness and romance to be weaved in amongst - the most important part - the FRIENDSHIPS made in shows. Below is a very small extract from an opening of one of the many variations of this idea I have played with over the years.

---

an extract from:
Episode One - The Casting Director

EXT. STAGE DOOR OF THE EDINBURGH PLAYHOUSE, DAY.

At the bottom of the steps to stage door, a small group of cast and crew, including ADAM, the tour’s chief electrician, are standing smoking. ZAK, a 23 year-old singer/dancer from London, steps out of stage door and makes his way down the steps. He leans against a wall next to JOSIE, a young dancer from Liverpool. He pulls out a cigarette and she smiles at him, offering him her lighter. The dancers are all in their warm-up clothes whilst the crew wear entirely black and have walkie-talkies clipped to their belts.

 

ZAK: So, I’m giving it...five more minutes to impact.

The other smokers all smirk. JOSIE inclines her head as if considering what he’s said. She puts out her cigarette and begins to pull her hair back into a haphazard ponytail.

 

JOSIE: With or without Al?

ZAK: You challenging me, Scouse?


JOSIE laughs at him before turning to face him, folding her arms. ZAK waggles his eyebrows at her as she opens her mouth to speak but the sound of high heels running along the pavement catches their attention. They turn their heads just as BECCA appears from the side street.

 

ADAM: What time do you call this?

BECCA: Time to shine, Adam – and shouldn’t you be fixing my spotlight?

 

She rushes past the smokers, pausing briefly to take a drag of ZAK’s cigarette before handing it back to him and rushing up the steps into the theatre.

 

ZAK: All bets are off then.

He winks at JOSIE then puts out his cigarette and heads inside. ADAM gives him a high-five as he passes.

 

ADAM: Don’t forget it’s your turn on the lunch run today. My order’s in your dressing room.

ZAK waves his hand dismissively in ADAM’s direction as he disappears through stage door.

 

JOSIE: (To ADAM.) So, are you and Becca still...

ADAM: Josie, you share a dressing room with her, you can ask. I wouldn’t even dare guess.





INT. FOOT OF BACKSTAGE STAIRS OF THE EDINBURGH PLAYHOUSE, DAY.


There’s the sound of scuffling and laughter from the top of the stairs and suddenly a male dancer comes rushing down them. He jumps to the bottom then spins round just as a female dancer rushes down the stairs after him. She jumps from the stairs into his arms and he catches her, bringing her into a ballet lift. They continue down the corridor that way, still laughing, when a door opens at the other end of the corridor and tour manager STEVE appears, muttering into his walkie-talkie. The man sets the woman down and they press themselves to the wall as STEVE passes. He doesn’t notice either of them as he continues to speak into his walkie-talkie.

 

STEVE: Does Fergus know? (Something indecipherable is heard over the walkie-talkie and STEVE is struggling to hear.) They said what about chocolate sprinkles? (Static buzzes from the walkie-talkie again.) What? Actually, never mind, this is useless. I’m coming to the auditorium. Try not to burn the theatre down before I get there.

STEVE heads up the stairs and the two cast members look at each other, clearly intrigued and amused. The man motions to leave and the woman nods, grabbing his hand as they rush off down the corridor. The woman pulls out her phone and begins texting as they hurry out of the corridor, laughing and whispering before exiting through a door.




EXT. STAGE DOOR OF THE EDINBURGH PLAYHOUSE, DAY.

EMMA steps out of stage door, passing ADAM and JOSIE who are heading inside. EMMA is carrying a box of tap shoes towards where a plastic chair is standing near the foot of the steps. She is halfway down the steps when DEAN, a 30 year-old singer/actor from Kent, appears from around the corner. He’s wearing casual clothes with a well-worn look to them and has a tired-looking rucksack slung over one shoulder. He spots her and grins broadly.

 

DEAN: (Still crossing the courtyard.) Morning Kiddo.

EMMA looks up at the sound of his voice and is obviously excited to see him.

 

EMMA: Dean!

She rushes down the rest of the steps, dumps the box of shoes on the chair and continues running towards DEAN, jumping up and throwing her arms around his neck in a firm hug. He is much taller than her and she has to stand on tiptoes to reach. DEAN laughs and slowly returns the hug.

 

EMMA: Your voice is working again then.

DEAN: God, first time in ten years I’ve had two sick days in a row. I was going mad!

EMMA: (Softly, breaking the hug.) I’ve missed you.

DEAN: Of course you did, I’m amazing. (EMMA playfully punches his arm and DEAN grins unashamed.) Now come on, fill me in, what have I missed?

EMMA: Nothing much. Callum’s kneepad flew off mid-Macavity on Monday night. Went right in the face of some woman in the stalls.

DEAN: Seriously?

EMMA: She handed it in after the show. And according to Fergus, she didn’t find it half as funny as your ever-professional cast-mates did. Fergus held wardrobe entirely responsible, of course. Had us sewing pretty much all Tuesday afternoon.

DEAN: (Trying to suppress a laugh.) And quite right too.

EMMA shoots him a warning look, trying not to smile.

 

EMMA: You know you might be big, but you’re not clever.

DEAN winks back at her and puts an arm around her shoulders.

DEAN: So, who’s in today? Anyone later than me?

EMMA: Oh, just the usual suspects. You’ll be delighted to know John’s made it in on time.

DEAN grimaces overdramatically.

 

DEAN: I swear he doesn’t even go home after the show. Have you ever actually seen him arrive? Exactly, you haven’t. Nobody has! I’m telling you, he’s sleeping here.

EMMA: He was singing ‘There’s No Business Like Show Business’ when I got in. Poked my head round the door just now and he’d made it to his fifth reprise.

DEAN: (Groaning somewhat jokingly.) God, why do I always end up in the crazy dressing room?

EMMA: Because everybody wants a piece of Dean ‘The Voice’ Maynard? That, and, alphabetically you’re clearly cursed. (DEAN groans again and EMMA laughs at him.) If it’s any consolation, I’ve fixed up those legwarmers for you. Made you a hidden pocket and everything. I’ll drop by your room with them after warm-up.

DEAN: Are you sure? The ‘M’ dressing room isn’t a pretty place you know.

EMMA: Yeah well, I’m prepared to take the risk for you.

DEAN laughs, squeezing her shoulders.

 

DEAN: Well, I’m touched. But I really have to get up there before they write me off for another day. Catch-up after the evening?

EMMA: Walk me back to digs?

DEAN: Of course.

EMMA: Well we’ll talk then.

DEAN gives her shoulders one more squeeze before moving away and heading up the steps to stage door. EMMA picks up the box of shoes and is about to sit on the chair when DEAN glances back.

 

DEAN: Lily says hi too, by the way.

EMMA looks up and gives him a small, thoughtful smile, not quite meeting his eyes.

 

EMMA: I bet she was happy to have a few extra days home with you.

DEAN: Yeah, she was. But...everyone’s on tour for a reason, right?

EMMA smiles again, slightly sadly, and nods, finally meeting his eyes.

 

EMMA: And don’t I know it.

DEAN gives her a nod back, as though the two are sharing a secret. EMMA then turns away and DEAN goes inside stage door. EMMA sighs and sits down on the plastic chair, picking up some polish from the box and beginning to work on the tap shoes.

 

 

INT. THE BACKSTAGE AREA OF THE EDINBURGH PLAYHOUSE, DAY.

                                                                                                                                       

The area is filled with balsa-wood wardrobe crates, clothes rails and black, metal-edged trunks on castors, labelled using masking tape and marker-pen. The floor is also covered in tape labels and boxes of coathangers. FERGUS is at the Resident Director’s booth, a podium in the wings of the theatre which looks out towards the stage. The booth has two monitors, one showing the stage and the other showing the Musical Director’s spot in the orchestra pit. On the stage monitor a group of techies can be seen having a limbo-dancing contest. On the orchestra pit’s monitor, one member of the orchestra can be seen asleep over the MD’s keyboard whilst others draw on his face. FERGUS doesn’t even glance at the monitors as he roots around the booth, searching through papers and notes. He stops searching suddenly when a post-it falls from his podium and he frowns, stooping to pick it up and read it. The note says: ‘EURO CASTING DIRECTOR. – MARCH 6TH’. There is a phone number underneath.

 

FERGUS: (Grimacing.) Oh, fabulous.

He crumples up the note and throws it down onto the desk, falling onto his seat and putting his head in his hands. He reaches for his walkie-talkie.

 

FERGUS: Steve, we’ve got another situation brewing here.

The walkie-talkie crackles static, but FERGUS is distracted from it by the sound of someone running towards him. BECCA is hurrying through the backstage area, dodging the black trunks and rails.

 

BECCA: Fergie Fergie Fergie!

FERGUS: Becca-

BECCA: No, I know, I know, but it wasn’t my fault I swear, there was a...

BECCA stops, spotting something on the desk behind FERGUS. He looks behind him at what she’s looking at. A copy of ‘The Stage’ is lying in the middle of the mess, open on an illustrated article about the leading-lady of a West End production of ‘Grease’.

 

BECCA: (Whispering to herself.) Lauren.

FERGUS: What?

BECCA: Nothing, nothing. Look, I’m sorry, I promise I-

FERGUS: Look, just...go and get ready. Cover-run in five minutes. Be there, or I get Claire to do it, ok?

BECCA brightens immediately and begins to back away, blowing him kisses as she goes.

BECCA: Thank you, Fergie! You’re a star!

She turns and runs away. FERGUS shakes his head in bewilderment.

 

FERGUS: I want that in writing, Becs. Signed off on by a lawyer!

 

 

INT. THE ‘M’ DRESSING ROOM AT THE EDINBURGH PLAYHOUSE, DAY.

The two walls of the dressing room are lined by traditional theatre mirrors with worktops in front. There’s a clothing rail in the middle of the room with some costumes hanging from it and plastic baskets of dance shoes and gloves beneath it. The mirrors all have photographs and cards stuck to them and there are plastic boxes of make-up on the worktops. There are six chairs set out, but only one is occupied. ZAK is sitting in front of his mirror, attacking an old metal toaster with a hairbrush. DEAN enters the room and stops in his tracks, watching ZAK in confusion.

 

ZAK: (Without looking away from the toaster.) Morning Deano. (DEAN suppresses a chuckle and ZAK briefly stops hitting the toaster to look up at him and grin.) Good to see you back, mate. How’s life?

 

DEAN: It’s back-to-backs, how do you think life is? (ZAK smirks understandingly then turns back to the toaster. DEAN pauses and watches ZAK for another few seconds.) Um, if you don’t mind me asking, what in Lord Andrew Lloyd-Webber’s name are you doing?

ZAK: (Looking back up.) What? Oh, this? The toaster is holding my breakfast hostage. I’m just trying to get it back.

DEAN: (Moving away from the door and over to his dressing table.) Well, you’ll get no sympathy from me, Zachary. (DEAN dumps his rucksack on the dressing table and sits down, turning back to face ZAK.) You’ve been doing this long enough to know that you never trust the free facilities at a theatre unless-

ZAK: Unless the theatre is based in the West End and has recently hosted a celebrity. I know, I know. But I was hungry.

DEAN: You’re always hungry. I think Em and Josie are still recovering from the great kebab debacle in Sunderland.

ZAK: Hey, what can I say? It’s a talent. Anyway, I needed the energy that day, I’d skipped breakfast. Sharing digs with Becca, you know? Any food she left me time to eat, she just stole from me anyway. (ZAK notices that DEAN is looking at him sceptically and he shrugs.) I still managed my cartwheels without throwing up on the front row, didn’t I? Really, I don’t see your problem.

DEAN: You’re ridiculous, you know that?

ZAK: I’m taking that as a compliment.

DEAN: We share a dressing room with John McNib. Ridiculous is definitely a compliment.

ZAK: (Laughing.) Harsh.

 

DEAN: Hey, we both know I don’t mean it. (DEAN pauses a moment in thought.) Most of the time, I can’t decide if I love him or if I want to throw him out of a window. But still, I wouldn’t swap him. Where is he anyway?

ZAK: Physio. He just wanted a nap on the massage table, but he’s calling it ‘back trouble’.

DEAN nods, clearly amused, then turns to sort out his dressing table. He begins arranging make-up pots as ZAK begins inspecting the toaster once more.

 

DEAN: You’re in a bit early, aren’t you? You and Will are normally the last faces here.

ZAK: Yeah, but Trev called me this morning, said a niggle from Monday’s show caught up with him. He wanted to give his charmingly cheeky first understudy the heads-up so he could come in early and impress our slightly stressy director.

DEAN chuckles. He is beginning to work on his make-up and as he tugs at the neck of his shirt, a cord necklace with a silver ring hanging from it is briefly visible.

DEAN: He’s supposed to be your mate, Zak, stop sounding so pleased.

ZAK shrugs and can’t hide his grin.

 

ZAK: Hey, it’s a ruthless game.




EXT. STAGE DOOR OF THE EDINBRUGH PLAYHOUSE, DAY.

EMMA is still sitting polishing tap shoes. She has one headphone in and is humming along to her music. WILL, a 20 year-old dancer from Manchester, rounds the corner into the courtyard. He is dressed in fashionable clothes, his hair is styled, and he is wearing sunglasses. He is handsome but obviously aware of it. EMMA spots him and stops what she’s doing.

 

EMMA: (Icily.) Aw, you made it out of bed for us.

WILL removes his sunglasses slowly and comes to a halt in front of her. He stands as though posing and smiles at EMMA cockily.

 

WILL: William McGuire, reporting for duty, Sergeant. (WILL salutes her mockingly.) You know, Wardrobe, it almost sounds like you’ve been pining for me.

EMMA: Dream on, McGuire. You’re the last here. I notice these things.

WILL: God, what does it matter? I’m here now.

EMMA: Barely.

WILL: Do you give Becca this crap?

EMMA: Becca’s not late because she’s lazy, she’s late because she likes the drama. And she’s never pulled the rubbish you pull onstage either.

WILL: (Sneering.) And Saint Dean? You seriously trying to tell me he didn’t go onstage with a mouthful of chewing gum the other week?

EMMA: Shut up. When you know him like I do; then we can discuss how he’s second to none. For now, you’re not even close to worthy.

WILL rolls his eyes and moves to skirt round her to get to the steps to stage door.

 

WILL: Get a life, Wardrobe. Dean’s just a bloke. (He begins to climb the steps.) And let’s not forget; this thing we work at? Yeah, it’s just a show. You should probably remember that next time you round on me.

EMMA starts to pack up her stuff, clearly angry.

 

EMMA: It’s never just a show, McGuire.

She picks up the box of shoes and hurries up the steps behind WILL, who pulls a face and mimics her as she speaks. EMMA glowers at his back as they both go through stage door.




INT. THE BACKSTAGE AREA OF THE EDINBURGH PLAYHOUSE, DAY.

ALEX, CALLUM, JOSIE and ZAK are sitting together on two black trunks, all in dance clothes, talking animatedly. BECCA rushes up behind them, she’s changed into dance clothes and is carrying her dance shoes as well as her phone and a bottle of water. As she joins the group they turn to watch her dramatic entrance with perplexed expressions. BECCA is catching her breath and she leans against ZAK, who fans her, smirking. BECCA presses the water to her forehead.

 

BECCA: Thank God, I thought I was late.

JOSIE: Lucky for you, your lovely dance captain is taking warm-up today.

BECCA: You are? What happened to Fergus? I thought he took us on Wednesdays?

ZAK: (Nudging BECCA conspiratorially.) Ah, but this is no normal Wednesday; this is the Wednesday that our very own Becca Clarke takes on her dream role! So, tell me, Rebecca, how does it feel to be stepping onstage in the part every little girl longs for?

BECCA laughs and shoots him a steady, but amused, look.

 

ALEX: (Dryly.) Why does everybody always want to be that damn fluffy white cat?

CALLUM swats at ALEX and the two share a grin. JOSIE jumps down from the trunk and bumps her hip against BECCA’s.

JOSIE: So, come on, Superstar, you ready for this?

CALLUM: Just for the record, Becs, if you’re not up to it, I’m totally ready to take your place.

CALLUM strikes a pose and the others laugh at him. JOSIE throws a pretend-kick in his direction, ZAK musses his hair, ALEX elbows him and BECCA sticks her tongue out at him.

 

BECCA: Back off, Mr. Lucas. I’ve got this one.

ALEX: Course you have. You’re always ready for anything, right?

BECCA winks.

 

BECCA: I learnt it all from you, Al. (ALEX salutes.) I see the Lemsip’s working, by the way.

ALEX feigns a grimace.

 

ALEX: Barely. I’ll be half-dead by interval.

BECCA nods then glances down, biting her lip.

 

BECCA: Hey, unrelated note: any of you read the latest Stage mag?

CALLUM: (Gasping over-excitedly.) You want to bitch about that Lauren girl, right? Tell me you want to bitch about that Lauren girl! I’ve been dying to all day!

BECCA laughs nervously and shrugs. JOSIE and ZAK seem intrigued.

 

ZAK: What she say?

CALLUM: She’s had this big West End break and she’s like...I don’t know, some reality show reject or something? But theatre-trained. And she’s the name on everyone’s lips in town. Thing is, she seems to think people on tour are...bumpkins or something. You know, like we can’t string a pas de deux together. So patronising. I’ve heard people speak about their rabbits with more respect. Says she’s thinking about touring. Probably wants to come educate us peasants on proper theatre.

BECCA is biting her lip and looking away, but only ALEX notices.

 

JOSIE: God, sometimes people in town get on my nerves.

ZAK: Jose, didn’t you say you did three years at Her Majesty’s with Phantom?

JOSIE: But do you see me there now?

ZAK: I was in town last year.

JOSIE: And if they’re so nice there, why’d you leave?

ZAK: You’re a terrible human being.

JOSIE: Nope. Pretty sure I’m fabulous, actually. London just didn’t get me.

ZAK and JOSIE are laughing but CALLUM pouts theatrically.

 

CALLUM: Hey, my boyfriend’s West End!

ZAK and JOSIE begin teasing CALLUM and they’re surprised when BECCA interrupts.

BECCA: So, anyway, I’m gonna go stretch. See you guys out there, yeah?

JOSIE looks over at BECCA in confusion.

 
JOSIE: Um, yeah. I guess.

The group watches BECCA walk away. ALEX leans over to CALLUM.

ALEX: Hey, you still deal in theatre gossip, right?

CALLUM: Have done since age twelve. Why?

ALEX: Oh nothing, I just thought it might be fun to dig a bit out on this Lauren girl’s real story. Find out if there’s anything she left out in that interview of hers.

CALLUM: Oo, scandalous! I like it. I’ll call my boyfriend after warm-up, see if he can help.

---