Operation Cornleyed Beef: A Screwed Musical
After the family of Willie Watkins arrange a snap Broadway transfer for Operation Mincemeat, the Fortune Theatre is left scrambling to fill some star-studded shoes. With the original cast and covers heading stateside, who would play our iconic heroes?
Luckily, Seán knew a troupe who were always looking for work – the Cornley Drama Society, with whom he’d performed briefly before being expelled on the grounds of excessive competence. He gave them a call, and what luck! They were available immediately.
And so a week of intense rehearsals begins…
(The idea of Mincemeat staged by Mischief characters was put into my head last night and it’s so fun; thanks to everyone in the Mincefluencers Discord for egging me on. More ideas likely to follow!)
“So we need to start casting”, said Chris, speaking loudly enough to be heard on the next street. (And yet still unheard by half the cast in the room.)
“The first protagonist is Montagu, a suave, handsome, intelligent naval officer. Naturally I will be playi–”
“Hold on”, exclaimed Robert. “How come you get the lead role?”
“And the next lead character”, Chris continued, speaking just a little louder, “is Charles, the lolloping sidekick who has a single good idea in the entire play. Robert, you wanted to have a lead part, here you go.”
(One critic described their performance as “more antagonistic than with the original cast”. A second called it “a war crime”. Other critics were less kind.)
“Next we need to cast the women, Jean and Hester. Jean is the plucky young tea girl who gets her hands dirty in the mission, and sings about how women should take men’s jobs. Sandra, you will be playi–”
Sandra burst into a big smile, imagining how Jean would steal the show, lost in a world and not listening to what Chris said next.
“–while Hester is the uptight, stuffy matriarch of the MI5 office, who will be played by Vanessa–”
whose face dropped visibly at this description
“–and who gets one of the most moving numbers of the play, ‘Dear Bill’.”
Vanessa’s smile picked up at this news, while Sandra scowled at the thought of being upstaged.
(Vanessa’s rendition of “Dear Bill” would never reach the solemn heights of the original cast, a reflection more on Robert and Sandra trying to overshadow her than her own performing ability.)
“Next, we need to cast Spilsbury, a bombastic and enthusiastic mortician. Max is the obvious choice.”
Max beamed, just delighted to be included.
(This casting choice would cause some consternation for Chris on opening night – Spilsbury always entered to rapturous applause, causing Max to burst into a big smile, leave the stage, and enter again. Three times. One reviewer called it the highlight of his night. Another said that Max had “perfectly captured Spilsbury’s energy”.)
“You’ll also be playing Willie Watkins, an American pilot crashes in Spain – make sure you practice your American accent.”
(Max produced a number of accents with great enthusiasm, even if none of them were American.)
“Moving down the list… Fleming will be played by Jonathan. We’ll need some gadgets for him, can you arrange that Trev–”
“I can do it!” exclaimed Robert, before Trevor could open his mouth.
“Wonderful,” said Chris, in a tone that implied Robert was anything but.
(Quite how Robert acquired a real exploding watch from the dark web remains a mystery, to both Chris and the West Midlands police. Unfortunately for Cornley, it exploded in Jonathan’s face five minutes before curtain up, and he had to be rushed to A&E – via the stage of “NHS The Musical” playing in the next theatre.)
(Trevor was sent on to read Fleming’s lines, which he did so in a completely deadpan tone. “And then he snogs a sexy lady with full tongue” killed the mood in the theatre, as well as the three dates happening in the front row. One reviewer would later compliment the juxtaposition of exuberant music with the flat delivery as the only thing he liked.)
(“At this performance, due to a technical issue in the props department, the role of Fleming will be played by Trevor. Now there’s a combination you don't have on your bingo sheets!” Chris pretended to laugh at this ‘joke’, with the laugh of a man who has complete disdain for all he addresses.)
“Annie, you’ll be playing Bevan, the stern senior officer who chastises Monty when the plan goes awry.”
Annie let out a wordless acceptance, too scared to speak aloud when Chris was in the room.
(This same lack of confidence carried into the performance, which rather undercut Bevan’s sense of authority.)
Dennis was the last cast member to be given a role, and Chris found several small, mostly non-speaking parts. Finally, something Dennis couldn’t turn into a disaster!
(Oh, the optimism. Dennis had a line in the opening number, written on his hands an aid Memoire. Unfortunately he didn’t write down the order, so he came out with “I do love it when … me … want to kiss the … ladies.” Vanessa looked even more mortified than usual.)
(During the second act opener, Dennis put his hands up, and kept putting them back up. Several other cast on stage were considering acts of violence, and not just in the lyrical sense.)
