Arseflop

D: We have a very fragile existence.

J: I’m still eating rocket salad out of plastic bags in my rented room.

D: We’ve been hugging radiators for the last week.

J: There’s no work on the horizon after the bit we’ve got next month.

D: We didn’t get programmed in a major festival, and while in one sense we’re relieved by that, we also feel we’re missing out on something.

J: The country’s on the brink of a double-dip recession and our funding is about to be snatched away from us even before it’s started.

D: And yet we’re happy, aren’t we?

J: Well we are when we consider the alternatives.

D: So let’s look at the alternatives. In a conventional office job you’d have a few hours to yourself a day. You’d have a mortgage but get little time to enjoy the benefits of it. Your existence might be soulless.

J: It might not. It depends on your personality. You might be the kind of person who loves that kind of life.

D: So this existence we have is perfectly suited to our personalities.

J: Apparently.

D: And if we had money would we actually have any energy to make anything?

J: There was a time when we had a bit more money but I think we were the same, just as creative.

D: I think we were less creative. We had to tour so much to make that money that we never had time to think about what we were doing. Now we have serious thinking time. For example, we know that when we start work on the next show we’re not going to go into a rehearsal room unplanned and run around with bags over our heads wasting energy.

J: What a shame. I could do with a bit of that. I think I’ll do it when I get back to my room.

(From The (unpublished) Ridiculusmus book of making comic theatre: Arseflop 2011)