From Burke & Hare to Clarkson & Crouch

I perform as half of sketch comedy duo Clarkson & Crouch. For this year’s show, Neighbourhood Watch we acquired a lovely wooden hat stand to use on stage for the variety of characters we play throughout. A few days in and we’re gazing ruefully at the shattered remains of said hat stand, which has not survived the journey from London to Edinburgh. Apparently if we take a bus a good way outside the city, there is an Ikea which may provide us with something similar...

My comedy partner Rob Crouch and I met in 2003 when cast as the titular leads in Burke & Hare, a black comedy about Edinburgh’s notorious murderers. It was not plain sailing; the two original actors had walked and mutual friends suggested Rob and I would be perfect in the roles. Once cast, we had a week to get the play up to speed and up to Edinburgh. Shoulders to the jamb, we learned the lines at breakneck pace, rehearsing from dawn until dusk and finally made it up here in good shape.
 
The morning we were due to open, as Rob and I were merrily stuffing a dead body made out of a large quantity of tights (the face was mainly gusset; it was quite disturbing) we were told that a cast member playing several key roles had departed in the night due to a family bereavement. After the initial shock we took to the streets with our director, phones at the ready, doggedly scouring the city for someone who could step into the breech.
 
Clock ticking, we found an actor – he was flyering on the Royal Mile, naturally - willing to undertake the unenviable prospect of rehearsing for three hours and then cramming lines by torchlight when not on stage.
 
As we opened and Rob and I walked on to the set of William Hare’s house for the first time, the houselights promptly came up. The audience sat beautifully lit and wondering what was happening, while Mr Crouch and I spoke our first lines in darkness through gritted teeth. After a very long minute the problem was rectified and against all odds the murderous tale of the Westport killers began to unfold as planned. And so it continued until the next scene, as I sat down on Mr and Mrs Hare’s sofa and the set collapsed around us like a Wile E. Coyote invention.

As the curtains closed on that eventful first night, our stage manager, Sonia, hissed something from the wings to our director, who urged her to speak up as he couldn’t hear. “I said,” she repeated, “Apparently The Scotsman were in tonight. Is that bad?”

Now, seven years later, two hours before we’re due at the theatre we find ourselves wandering along a lonely road on the way back from Ikea, surrounded by hills and little else and carrying a hat stand between us, praying that a bus will appear. It reminds me of the end titles of The Incredible Hulk TV show - Bruce Banner desperately trying to thumb a lift. Honestly though – I’m sure everything will run smoothly this year. Is that the Road Runner I can hear in the distance?