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The Great Flu Outbreak Of Aberdeen

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It’s really a rather desperate sight; six or seven of them huddled on Di’s dressing room sofa, half-asleep, playing Travel Scrabble and trying not to sneeze. Chris floats in on a cloud of wig-glue fumes, waves a pitying hand in their direction as he surveys the mess.
            ‘Well, Dolls, this is going to be a terribly long week. Seems to me we’re only working with half a cast! Frankly, I wish the audience all the best!’ And at that he drifts off somewhere, muttering things about disaster under his breath. Alex is grumbling and sarcastic as he tries to formulate a belated retort. He’s been the cast authority on Lemsip and plaster brands since Sunderland and he’s growing weary of the pitying looks.
            The director peers in after the fifteen minute call. He’s put an exclusion zone round all of them and Dean – his only able-voiced singer left standing – is banned from socialising ‘til the danger is judged to have passed.

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