Understudy Under Arrest

Wow, 'round these parts, new threads are as rare as hens teeth, so here goes!

Some time ago I was chosen to be the 'understudy' for the character of 'Tony', the clean-cut male lead in the musical 'West Side Story' by Leornard Bernstein and Stephen Sondheim. This of course was great news, for it was quite a big production to be performed for at least two weeks at one of Dublin's most prestigious theatres, with perhaps a fortnight extension if reviews were favourable and ticket sales went well. After that, maybe the West End and on to Broadway, we all had our dreams!

Prior to landing this plum understudy role, I was already familiar with two of 'Tony's' showstoppers, 'Something's Coming' and 'Maria', and was brushing-up on the tear jerking duet 'One Hand, One Heart' with my Grandmother's elderly friend Doris(91), hearing us sing together really would bring tears to your eyes!
Another reason for high spirits and optimism was the poor state of health of the person chosen (unfairly in my opinion) to play the male lead.
He was dissolute, surly and unprofessional, with a raffish off-stage personality more suited to that of an 18th Century libertine, yet frustratingly and inexplicably, he was much loved by all, particularly by the gorgeous young starlet chosen (deservedly) to play the female lead 'Maria'.

I was becoming increasingly enamoured of this raven-haired songbird with the devastating smile, her credentials were impeccable, having made the final 10, for two years on the spin, in the 'Miss Kilmuckridge' annual beauty pageant (18years to 58years divorcee category).
My heart sank on a daily basis as she 'fell' for the dubious charms of my nemesis, who by the way, was a heavy smoker with an inordinate thirst for alcoholic beverages. This loser was living my dream, there was only one thing for it, he had to be 'nobbled'.

At first during rehearsals, I spiked his daily large Brandy & Port with a powerful laxative, and although his visits to the 'little boys room' increased in frequency, he always managed to exit - much to my chagrin - as healthily as he entered.
The last straw for me was hearing him whistle 'Her Come The Jets' in a jaunty manner on one of his many visits to the 'Gents'.
It was time to 'up my game'.

After a couple of days planning, which included an exhaustive search (two minutes on the Internet) for a 'exotic' substance, I managed to acquire - from someone in The Gambia - a supply of chemical poison labelled 'strong enuff 2 kill 4 elefants[sic]'.
To cut a long story short, that didn't work either, so in the end I dispensed with the subterfuge and rammed him with my car against a wrought-iron gate, (on two separate occasions).
Amazingly, following the first 'ramming' he gingerly rose to his feet and walked slowly home, or more likely to the nearest public house.
However, the second 'accident' produced a 'result' necessitating an emergency ambulance to take our aspiring 'Tony' to a nearby hospital.

I turned up for rehearsals the following morning, bright eyed and bushy tailed, anticipating, if you will, the call for the starring role.
To my horror, I was met by two large and uncouth members of An Garda Siochana, one of whom read me my rights in an unintelligible accent before bungling me into the 'paddy wagon'.
Apparently I was 'grassed up' by members of both 'The Jets' and 'The Sharks', so much for 'street solidarity'.

My subsequent trial could be best described as farcical - you know you're in trouble when your own defending barrister argues strongly for the maximum sentence - the judge, jury and gallery (whipped up into a frenzy on the previous day's 'Liveline') all seemed convinced of my guilt before a word was spoken.
Incidentally and ironically, during closing arguments, there ensued an 'Officer Krupke' type debate on the nature v nurture origin of crime causation.
The judge opined that : "it doesn't really matter wether he was born under a bad sign or raised by a couple of psychopaths, that motherfukcer's going down", and this before the jury had convened to decide my fate!

Miraculously, 'Tony' survived a night in a Dublin A&E (something of an achievement in itself), and managed on opening night, to hobble onstage before delivering a bravura performance to rapturous applause from a spellbound audience.
"Westside Triumph for Northside Star", screamed one 'Redtop' headline, "A Thoroughly Agreeable Evening", mumbled a 'broadsheet'.

As for myself, well after an early release from 'The Phibsboro Hilton', ostensibly for good behaviour - in reality I was told that they just couldn't stand the sight of me anymore - I now find myself in pursuit of gainful employment in the entertainment industry, but to my astonishment it seems that my reputation precedes me and I'm finding it extremely difficult to secure 'a gig' of any sort.

I'm just wondering if anyone out there has had a similar experience as an understudy, or even one 'exactly the same?