A report on the making of the trailer…
I am pleased to say that the most important (not to mention convivial) scenes with the Cabinet have been completed with unprecedented success. That might be a little bit optimistic – it’s hardly Ben Hur – but it was without doubt a fabulous day of filming that began when I finished writing the script (such as it was) at eighty thirty that morning, and ended a full twenty four hours later (really), when the cameraman and director finally decided to stop partying and go to bed. I think I had better explain…
After some initial confusion about the actual location of the shoot, our motley crew were soon assembled in our very own Cabinet office in central Cambridge. Fuelled with the traditional victuals of tea and biscuits (which eventually became consumable props, much Martin the continuity chap’s dismay), this happy band of waifs and strays miraculously morphed into a surprisingly competent Government. By the end of the first hour, we were utterly convinced that we could run the country.
There is, of course, the unspoken rule of what happens on set, stays on set and I will not betray the confidences of my colleagues quite so readily. However, such highlights include but are not limited to:
Meeting Sam from Midsummer 365 Projects! We have been blogging friends for sometime now and she was good enough to make the epic 100 mile drive to take her place as Minister For Good Ideas & Gin. She didn’t know anyone and was a little nervous at first, but as luck would have it she was almost the identical twin of press-ganged cast member Edd and they bonded over a love of steampunk and excellent hats. By the time we hit the after party, her place in our hearts was forever assured and she is now firmly part of the gang with no chance of escape. Oh, and she can lift me up really easily, too.
Hats – There were more hats on set than people, at one point.
The Chancellor Of The Exchequer’s trousers – Looking as if they had been freshly wrestled from the derriere of Michael Portillo, this eye-catching apparel drew admiring glances from men and ladies alike… although mainly the ladies, to be fair.
‘Concerned’ – A panned shot of the Cabinet looking concerned turned into something of a saga as the director continually asked for us to repeat the scene. Thinking our hopeless acting skills were pushing that Oscar further and further away, I later learned the truth of the matter when reviewing the footage. Our concerned faces were the very epitome of anxiety, however the camera was jittery for many of the passes and unusable. I thought it was strange – we managed ‘pensive’ in one take, and one person didn’t even know what pensive was.
Don’t look at the camera! I’m not looking at the camera! – It doesn’t matter how much you try not to look into the camera, invariably your eyes are drawn to it and you end up looking panicked and rather creepy on screen.
Boris, you bastard! – A line that required delivery at untold decibels. There must be a good number of smart Cambridge folk wondering who he is and why he is evidently such a massive bastard.
Don’t mention the war – With three Germans in the cast and crew, plenty of Dad’s Army-esque banter abounds. On reflection, these scenes should not be used anywhere, ever – but will serve as a cheeky reminder of the fun we had that day.
Back seat of the Bentley – The Chancellor of the Exchequer used his classic car to gain favour with the ladies, even including a nice teddy bear in the back seat to tempt us in. Dear reader, his ploy worked.
Tony, father of PorterGirl – Lens-wielding artiste and video & technical director for the day, Tony Colby is my photographer of choice and is quite rightly attributed with the birth of PorterGirl. Legend has it, that during one especially ribald discussion on social media, Tony came up with the suggestion that I start a blog about my bizarre new job at the University. He became quite insistent and I was in no mood for a battle. The very next day I wrote ‘The First Day’ and the rest, as they say, is history.
The After Party – Several hours of filming was all it took for a room full of people to fall instantly in love and decide to spend the following evening together behaving like absolute deviants. This impromptu decision resulted in the cavalcade decamping to rural Cambridgeshire, where I hastily threw together a banquet while the Chancellor entertained all and sundry with his trousers, fancy car and three large bottles of home brewed damson gin. There was much hugging, singing and trampolining, all observed in mild terror by Terry the cat. Things started to go a little awry after dark, but miraculously I managed to keep all my clothes on. Events thereafter get somewhat wispy, but Nicole and I decided to go to bed (not like that) after we realised we had spent far too much time obsessing over Tony Slattery from the 90s, and the chaps were deep in discussion about internet access in Africa, or something.
Before I know it, dappled sunlight is falling across my face and an insistent paw is prodding at my nose. I am unsure as to what time I retired, but it feels all too recent. However, a hungry Terry is not to be dismissed, so I follow the furry bugger into the kitchen, only to find cameraman and director still in full flow of nonsense. I’m not sure what they are drinking, but it smells dreadful. The sight of me first thing in the morning is clearly enough to send them scurrying to some place of slumber and I am left to contemplate the fact that the day before, we had perhaps been making history.