This week we have the arrival of another guest appearance: my colleague, LeeRoy. That is not his real name. In the interest of professionalism and privacy I offered him a pseudonym and he chose LeeRoy. So ladies and gentleman, it is my pleasure to introduce to you… LeeRoy *insert rapturous applause here*. Just the other day the team were partaking in idle desk chit-chat as adults with grown up jobs tend to do when we got onto the top of people’s plans for that evening. LeeRoy very nonchalantly mentioned that he was off to the theatre that night to see Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. Unfortunately for LeeRoy, this was not glided over as the throw away comment he had intended. This was the most talked about play of the moment – the one with Jack O’Connor, the fit one from Skins in, the one with Sienna Miller in, the one that sees both the fit one from Skins and Sienna Miller strip down to the absolute nudey. How had he managed to get tickets and who on earth was he taking to witness this wonder of both the theatrical arts and the human form?
LeeRoy became rather sheepish and mumbled that he was going with a girl he had studied drama with at uni. Nope, still not off the hook there LeeRoy. Who is this girl? Is there a history here? Is this a date? LeeRoy went bright red, attempted to skirt all further questioning and insisted that although they had snogged in the past, this was absolutely, categorically, definitely not a date. He can’t have been too keen to catch up with this long lost platonic friend though. LeeRoy admitted he was purposefully loitering around the office for as long as possible to avoid too much small talk before the play started. He also then downed a shot of whiskey and nabbed some supplies from the Mentos desk before he left. I always need dutch courage and breath mints before a catch up with a friend that involves minimum catching up and maximum sitting in silence in a darkened room watching attractive people remove their clothes…
Flash-forward to the next morning and I have never been more excited to get to work and see how this non-date had gone. We received the full debrief and the following had ensued:
Timed to perfection, LeeRoy had arrived at the theatre just as the first bell went so they headed straight for their seats and were plunged into darkness and uncomfortable sexual tension as they were immediately confronted by Jack O’Connor’s naked body. I know where you think is going, surely Cat on a Hot Tin Roof is the ideal location for the classier execution of the classic teenage cinema move of the yawn-stretch-put-your-arm-round-her. But this wasn’t a date, remember. So LeeRoy kept his hands to himself.
Swept away by the performance, and as the true thespians that they had been trained as, LeeRoy and his mystery lady FRIEND headed to a bar following the curtain call to discuss the nuances of Tennessee William’s prose and Sienna Miller’s performance. It was only once two bottles of Malbec had slipped down that LeeRoy noticed the time and realised he was going to have to dash if he was going to make the last tube home – who knew that actually catching up could be so time consuming?!
The two star-crossed lovers companions hopped onto the tube and eventually bade big, fond and platonic farewells at Kings Cross as the Piccadilly line tore them apart. It was only when he arrived at the platform that LeeRoy realised that in the awkward, rushed pre-play preamble he had put his house keys in his acquaintance’s bag to avoid the potential discomfort of his keys digging into his thigh from his jeans pocket during the production. Quick, there was no time to lose. Fate had played its part, he had to catch her. There was no time to lose. He ran. Tearing up the escalator steps two at a time, sending parents pushing prams and buskers flying in his wake, and calling her name as he went. He was really putting Romeo’s balcony scaling antics to shame. As he neared the top, there she was, at the ticket barrier. She heard her name and turned, hair swishing in slow motion.
“Sorry, I think I left my keys in your bag”. Her face fell, ah yes. She fished out the keys in question and without another word, Leroy turned and disappeared into the gaping chasm of the underground. Fate had failed, the moment had passed. But fate isn’t used to the wonders of modern technology. Not one to the let the opportunity slip through his fingers, LeeRoy got out his phone. (one does wonder why that hadn’t also been in the handbag due to the aforementioned comfort issues but let’s not focus on the fine details here). In a fit of passion, LeeRoy tapped out what could easily have been described as the most moving love-letter of the millennial generation: ‘I think I probably should have snogged you then’. Five minutes later and his phone buzzed, it was Bae on a Hot Tin Roof: ‘I agree’.
But these two are thespians. They know how it goes: if we have learnt anything from Shakespeare’s most iconic romantic tragedy, we know that this love, once finally admitted, is doomed never to be fulfilled. LeeRoy didn’t text back.