Singing For My Supper

This the staircase outside a casting room at 'The Drill Hall'.
Littered with actors, scripts clutched in sweaty hand, making strange noises as they try to warm up sleeping vocal chords, or mumbling away to themselves. We sit on steps quietly focusing as we briefly try on the worlds of other people or we make a big fuss about how much we really could care less and swagger in with bark and bluster.
We are quite, quite mad. And fiercely proud of it.