Much excitement among the dweebs this week, with the news that – in what has been labelled The X-Wing Factor (by me, principally) – Disney is to hold open auditions for the new Star Wars movie.
Bristol is first, before the galactic wannabes in Manchester, London, Glasgow and Dublin get their turn. One would imagine there will be a few mothers who, any day now, will walk into their darkened kitchens and switch on the light, before noticing (by virtue of the fact that they are lying face-down in the dog’s bowl), that the fluorescent light tube is missing from the ceiling.
Producers are looking for a male and female to play characters called Rachel and Thomas. I would be delighted if both were found in my home town, as there have been too few Jocks in space. Aside from Scotty in the original Star Trek who, in addition to being unable to perform miracles (Captain!), was also incapable of rolling his Rs. Even in the remake, passable as Simon Pegg’s accent may have been, it was hardly authentic. And don’t throw Ewan McGregor at me. Yes, he’s one of us, but in the three prequels he was pretending to be a young Alec Guinness, so sounded like a cross between Gyles Brandreth and Frasier Crane.
I would rather we had a real Glaswegian in space. Someone hairy. I could certainly put them in touch with one or two blokes who make as much sense as a Wookie. And are no strangers to the use of force.