Gunning for us

Two hours before the opening of a play is not when you want three vanloads of armed police storming your theatre, pointing semi-automatics at your director and forcing one of your stars out of his car. But it can happen to the best of the shows.

A simple explanation. Because of the layout of the theatre, actors sometimes have to walk out into the street, round the corner and through a back alleyway to get to the other entrance. And sometimes actors have to take with them guns. Plastic guns. That could only hurt a fly if pressed up against one on a window pane. But when a passerby sees someone - possibly a black someone, which in itself is unfortunately suspicious - rushing out of a bar, gun in hand or pocket - they are not going to stop that person and say, in a polite voice "excuse me, young sir, but is that gun plastic or are have you just committed or are about to commit a heinous crime?". They are more likely to call the police. Which they did.

Most of the cast and crew were oblivious of this unhappy event, as we sat eating pizza in a nearby restaurant, but we got the full story on our return to the theatre and the sensible warning - which had been issued before but which had not necessarily impinged itself on our consciousness - to hide any theatrical weapons when on the street. And the director decided to buy a few more guns so that there would be spares at both entrances, thus obviating the possibility of troubling the good men and women at the Metropolitan Police once more.

Oh, did I say it was the play's opening? Yes, it was. Did the play go well? The audience seemed to love it and several of us were singled out for congratulations afterwards. Was I happy with my performance? Not particularly. And the directors' opinion? Well, we will hear tonight.