AA: Episode Four
By Martin Smith
Previous episodes
‘The following Monday, I sat amidst a group of fellow wannabes in a studio. A pig wearing a bow tie, a beret and a pencil moustache stood before us and said,“Welcome to Performing Protagonism 101. I’m Ham. This is my sister, Gammon.” Another pig—wearing a sweeping pink scarf, a red beret and a beaming smile—raised a trotter and waved at the class. “Together, we will be your instructors for the next five weeks.”
‘Spontaneous clapping came from the students sitting before our porcine teachers.
‘Ham continued, “Before we commence, let me tell you a little about our background. I suspect you all know about our ongoing performance in Hansel and Gretel. But what you may not know is that we started off in the Grimm Brothers’ Little Brother and Little Sister, then as siblings in The Enchanted Stag.”
‘Ham paused to snort from a silver snuffbox. Then he said, “We know what it takes to become a protagonist, and, more importantly, how to sustain longevity in what is the most cut-throat of industries. Mark my words, it’s all about suspending disbelief to ensure the reader imagines your character and not your true self. Look at my sister and me. For centuries the world has imagined Hansel and Gretel as two human children—one resourceful, the other dimwitted—but never once has the reader had the slightest inkling a pair of pigs are playing the lead roles. Porcine protagonistic perfection, I like to call it.”
‘Ham paused to twirl his moustache. Then he continued, “Now, before we start, I must warn you. Out of our class of 30 here today, only a few may reach a second draft, and of those few, maybe, and it’s a big maybe, one of you will make the big time and see your name in print as a protagonist. Even then, you are more likely to be identified by your role than your name, and more likely to be a flat character than a rounded one. And it will probably take you centuries to reach classic status. To be frank, most of you will never appear in a fairy tale, let alone as a protagonist. But don’t let me discourage you. If you work hard, push yourself to your very limit and beyond, you may just make it.”
‘Ham paused to pout and preen and admire his profile in the studio’s mirrors, before he returned his attention to us and said, “During the next five Mondays, you’ll be asked to shed your comfort zone, confront your innermost and outermost fears and survive the most dangerous and difficult of dilemmas, all while garnering empathy from your readership and doing everything in your power to reach out and grasp that elusive happy-ever-after. So let’s get started. Pair up!”
‘And so for the next five Monday nights, I learnt the art of protagonism. I paired up with plumbers and Prince Charmings, delivery drivers and distressed damsels, waiters and witches, firefighters and fairies, garbos and goblins, electricians and elves, tattooists and trolls, and optometrists and ogres. Just common folk looking for a break, a chance to make a name for themselves as protagonists.
‘We started with Grooming and Deportment, focusing on key skills like letting your hair down when standing next to high, open windows, colour coordinating when selecting an outfit to wear when walking in the woods on the way to visit elderly relatives, maintaining a quiff, tanning (for gentlemen) and sunscreening (for ladies), avoiding swollen feet after a night at a ball and avoiding pash rash when snogging during denouement.
‘Next week, we studied Voice. We learnt how to scream in distress, how to speak to wolves, beasts or strange men to encourage them to place our life in peril, how to sing in dulcet tones when sitting amidst the innocent creatures of the woods, and how to solve riddles with clear enunciation.
‘Week Three, we focused on Movement: how to walk along a path in the woods, how to cross a troll-infested bridge, how to climb a beanstalk and how to clean a hearth full of cinders.
‘The next week was all about Spatial Awareness: how to get lost in the woods, how to swoon in front of a Prince Charming, how to nibble the poisoned part of an apple, how to avoid burning your tongue on hot porridge, and how to not hit an artery when pricked by a splinter.
‘Our last week focused on Crisis Management: how to quell nausea when kissing a frog, how to bite your tongue when chastised by ugly step-relatives or living with persons of short-stature, how to avoid a panic attack when being entwined by a forest of brambles and thorns, and how to avoid frostbite in colder climes. I missed the session on how to coerce an unsuspecting other to do your dirty work as I went for a loo break. As I re-entered the studio, I saw Ham packing a spinning wheel and Gammon sweeping wisps of straw into a dustpan while the students lolled about with shifty looks on their faces and stuffed pockets.
‘I graduated top of the class. My peers voted me “Most Likely”. A dwarf gave the valedictory speech. We signed each other’s Month Books, then threw our mortarboards in the air and our hopes to the wind.
