Diary
Diary
It was the call that never came. For three hours last week, I sat with my hand hovering over the phone. I had been told that Bill Kenwright would be getting in touch between 3 p.m. and 6 p.m. Yes, the Bill Kenwright, theatreland big shot and chairman of Everton FC.
It was the call that never came. For three hours last week, I sat with my hand hovering over the phone. I had been told that Bill Kenwright would be getting in touch between 3 p.m. and 6 p.m. Yes, the Bill Kenwright, theatreland big shot and chairman of Everton FC. This was exciting. Was I about to be hired for a cameo role in his West End production of Cabaret? Better still, perhaps, he fancied my prospects as a burly striker, playing at Goodison alongside Andy Johnson? Sadly not. The reason I had been put on red alert was that Kenwright and his inamorata, Jenny Seagrove, were panellists on the celebrity edition of Who Wants To Be a Millionaire — and Bill was keen that I should be his ‘phone-a-friend’. In the celebrity version, famous people are invited to display how little they know and then give all prize money to charity. The rules allow victims to dial a chum for help if a question is unreasonably testing. You know, something like: who is the new president of France? a) Matthew Parris, b) Paris Hilton, c) Frenchie Nicholson, d) Nicholas Nickleby. That Bill asked me to perform this role suggests that either he’s desperately short of mates, or that most of his have IQs smaller than their boot sizes. I wonder why he never called me.
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