May I Have Your Attention Please?

by James Corden

  For some reason, on that day, I found myself wandering around the shadier part of town. There I was, minding my own business, when a voice behind me said, ‘Live show? Fully nude girls?’ I stopped, turned round and, through an open doorway, saw a woman sitting behind a counter with flashing lights. I’d never been down this alley before, as the walk from the Tube to the theatre didn’t bring me through here. ‘Only five pounds, darlin”. I checked my watch – I had an hour to kill. Maybe watching some naked women might be a nice way to pass the time.

  ‘Come here, sweetie,’ she said, beckoning me in. ‘How old are you, you little cutie?’

  I cleared my throat and said, ‘I’m twenty-one.’

  ‘Well, that’s OK. Why don’t you come in and we’ll give you a nice live show.’ She took my hand in hers and pulled herself slightly nearer to me.

  ‘Would you like that? Just five pounds.’ Before I could say anything, I was loosening the Velcro on my wallet and handing over a crisp fiver. She smiled at me and ushered me past the black velvet curtain and into a dimly lit corridor. ‘Mind your step there, big boy,’ she said as I followed her down what seemed like hundreds of steps. (There were probably only twenty.)

  We walked into a small room with tables and booths set around the edges. Each table had a small lamp on it, and they were really the only source of light. I couldn’t even tell you what colour the walls were, it was that dark. We walked past two angry-looking guys who were wearing brightly coloured Kappa tracksuits and then past three or four girls who were sitting in the corner in their underwear, talking and taking long drags on cigarettes. I looked around but at no point could I see a stage or any kind of strip show going on. The woman holding my hand sat me down in a sort of semi-private booth in the corner and introduced herself. ‘I’m Sapphire. What’s your name, darlin’?’

  ‘I’m … erm … Mark. Yeah, Mark,’ I said smoothly. We sat down and she asked me what a boy like me was doing wandering around Soho on a day like this. I didn’t know what to say. I sort of stumbled and mumbled my words without much of an answer.

  ‘Lookin’ for trouble?’ she said.

  ‘Not especially,’ I answered. At that moment one of the girls in her underwear came over. I felt relieved; this strip show could now start and I could get the hell out of here. So far, it hadn’t lived up to the billing. I also couldn’t understand why Sapphire was still sitting down next to me. I mean, who was manning the front desk?

  ‘Hi, I’m Jade,’ said the girl in her underwear, and added a ‘Nice to meet you’ before walking off. Then another girl came over and said her name was Bella. She leant forward and kissed me seductively on the cheek. I was about to tell her that I used to work in Bella Pasta when she just turned round and walked off too. Sapphire was still sitting next to me, not moving or saying a word. I started to feel really uncomfortable and began thinking that it might be a good idea to leave soon. I had an overwhelming sense of something not being right.

  ‘Do you want a drink?’ one of the nasty-looking blokes in the tracksuits called over.

  ‘Erm … I’m OK, thanks. I’ll just, erm … When does the show start?’ I asked.

  ‘Show starts soon,’ he said, moving towards our table. ‘You’ve got to have a drink.’

  I paused and he just stared at me. ‘Just a Coke then, please,’ I said, in a slightly too high-pitched voice.

  ‘How old are you?’

  ‘He’s twenty-one. I checked,’ Sapphire said quickly.

  ‘Good. Just a Coke then, is it?’

  ‘Yes, thanks.’

  As the man walked away, his shell-suit scrunching with every step, Sapphire leant in to me and whispered into my ear, ‘I’m gonna go and talk to my friends. You should read the price list before I come back.’

  She walked away, pulling a velvet rope across one side of the booth to the other. I looked around for a price list but couldn’t see anything anywhere – no menu or drinks list on the table – until I looked at the wall in front and there, screwed in, was a framed list of drinks prices. My eyes nearly blew out of my head.

  Champagne: £1,000

  Beer: £500

  Wine: £500

  And below, right at the bottom of the list:

  Soft drinks: £500

  I was shocked. I mean, those were ridiculous prices, even for central London. I’d made a huge mistake. I didn’t know where I was, or what was going on, but I knew I shouldn’t be there. I stood up and started trying to undo the rope. It wouldn’t give so I got on my knees and tried to shuffle underneath it.

  ‘Where d’ya think you’re going?’ asked a broad Mancunian voice. It was the other of the two guys I’d passed near the door. I got up off the ground and said, as nicely and politely as I could, ‘I think there’s been a mistake. I thought this was … Well, anyway, I’m just gonna leave. Don’t worry about the fiver.’

  At that moment he grabbed my coat by the lapels and pushed me back into the corner. ‘Don’t worry about the fiver? Are you having a laff? You owe me five hundred quid, you cheeky bastard!’

  I was shaking so much that I could barely breathe, let alone speak. He still had hold of me and, as he leant his face in to get up close and personal, I could see that he had a tattoo on his neck and his eyebrow was pierced. His breath wasn’t great either.

  ‘But … but I haven’t had a drink,’ I managed, trying to hold it together. ‘I … I thought th-this was a strip show.’

  ‘Leave him be, Danny,’ said Sapphire, trying to help me. ‘He’s only young.’ He put me down but only so he could push his elbow up against my chest. I didn’t know what he was gonna do, but it felt as if he was shaping up to hit me. With a whimper, I closed my eyes, clenched my jaw and waited for the punch. Instead, I felt his hand rummaging around in my pocket and opened my eyes to see him pulling my wallet out of my jacket. ‘So how much you got in here?’ he said, pulling the Velcro open, while still pinning me to the wall.

  I tried to remember. ‘About twenty quid, I think.’

  ‘Well then, my friend. We’re going to have to take a little trip to the cashpoint.’

  I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I had a call-back for a massive TV show in forty minutes. ‘I can’t. I haven’t got any money in the bank,’ I said, clutching at straws.

  ‘You what?’ the geezer said again, applying more pressure to my chest.

  ‘I haven’t got any money …’ I then, pretty remarkably given the circumstances, had a brainwave. Lie! ‘I’m not twenty-one either. I’m only seventeen. I’m from High Wycombe. I’ve come to London for the day with my dad, but he’s in a meeting. He’s a loaded businessman. He’ll give me the money and I’ll bring it back.’

  I was literally saying whatever entered my head. Sapphire looked at Danny. ‘That’s what he told me, Danny,’ she said. ‘His dad is loaded but he’s left him to wander the streets on his own.’ That was unexpected. I couldn’t believe she was trying to help me.

  ‘I promise I’ll get you the money. I’ll just tell him I need it for some trainers. He’ll give it to me, I promise.’ Danny looked at Sapphire and then carried on looking through my wallet. He pulled out my Switch card and looked at it. ‘There’s no money in there,’ I said, panicking. ‘My allowance only gets put in every month.’ I truly believe that in the twenty-one years I’d been alive up until that point, this was the first time I’d used the word ‘allowance.’ (We got pocket money in our house, but I’d always associated an ‘allowance’ with something that rich kids got.)

  Suddenly Danny let out a scream. ‘THIS IS BULLSHIT!’ He grabbed me again and slammed me back into the wall.

  ‘DANNY, stop it!’ shouted Sapphire.

  I swear to God I thought I was about to cry. He emptied out my wallet and put all the cash I had, coins and everything, in his pocket. I had a picture of me and Shelley in there, which he ripped out and waved in my face. ‘Is this your girlfriend? Is it? What would she say if she knew you were in here trying to pay for se
x?’ Eh? I didn’t think I was paying for sex. In fact, that was the first time that sex had been mentioned.

  ‘I thought it was a striptease show. That’s all. I don’t wanna pay for sex. Please, I just want to get out of here. I’ve said I’ll give you the money. Please just let me go.’ My bottom lip was quivering. Amazingly, he then took a Blockbuster video card out and held it up to me. I can picture it now: in big yellow letters on a blue background it read, ‘Wow! What a difference,’ and had ‘Mr M. K. Corden’ embossed underneath the slogan. (It was my dad’s card but I always held on to it.) By now, he was almost spitting in my face with every word. ‘I’m gonna keep this card, and if you don’t come back with the money, I’m gonna find you and kill you, do you understand?’ He pushed his sweaty forehead against mine and did what can only be described as a slow-motion head-butt. Y’no, a bit like footballers do when they want to look hard but just end up looking weird.

  ‘Yeah, I understand,’ I said meekly.

  ‘Get out of here. NOW!’ He let down his elbow and threw my wallet at me. I got down on my hands and knees and started scooping up the cards and receipts that had fallen on the floor, then ran out of there as fast as I could. Once I was back on the street, I ran down to Shaftesbury Avenue and for some reason nicked into the Trocadero. Inside, I walked into the first shop I could find and hid in a corner to see if anyone was following me. They weren’t. The coast was clear. I breathed a massive sigh of relief, furiously started wiping the sweat from my brow with my shirtsleeve and looked at my watch – I had ten minutes before I was meeting Kay. Shit!

  First things first, though. I took out my mobile and called our local Blockbuster. I pretended to be my dad on the phone. ‘Oh, hello there,’ I said, sounding like a character from Dad’s Army (nothing like my dad). ‘I seem to have lost my membership card. My name is Malcolm Corden …’ I gave our address and phone number and the guy on the end of the phone said he’d send another one over. But that still didn’t put me in the clear. ‘Erm … Sorry, old chap, I’m slightly worried. What if someone were to find my card and try to get my details off your system? Could they find me? I mean, is that possible? Hey, old bean?’ The old chap assured me that no one with that card could get hold of our details and that people lose cards all the time. I put the phone down and was suddenly hit with the reality of everything that had just happened. It totally frazzled me.

  It remains one of the weirdest hours of my life. I shudder when I see tourists walking into those places now. For about three years after that experience, if I ever had to be in Soho, I would always be slightly on edge, worried that I might bump into Danny or Sapphire. It was, I kid you not, the most terrifying experience of my young life.

  But, right then, I had bigger fish to fry. I needed to get moving, and fast. It was now only five minutes before my meeting and, if I didn’t run to the Groucho Club, I was going to be late. It was just about doable. I rushed back down Shaftesbury Avenue, up Dean Street and burst in through the door. The lady on reception was – understandably – a bit taken aback by my entrance, but I told her I was here to see Kay and she let me through into the bar.

  Still hopelessly out of breath, I went over to where Kay was sitting in the corner with one of the directors, called Audrey Cooke, and one of the producers. As I sat down, Kay looked at me a bit askance and said, ‘What have you been up to?’ If only you knew, I thought to myself. Fifteen minutes ago I was basically in a brothel that I thought was a strip joint with a bloke called Danny nicking my Blockbuster card and threatening to beat me up.

  Obviously, I didn’t say a word and, after I’d cooled down a little, we talked for an hour or so about the series, about Jamie’s character and how they viewed him and how I viewed him, and about what I thought I could bring to the role. I suppose we reached a natural pause and they said they needed to have a chat now, just the three of them together. Fine, I said, you guys do that. I’m off to the loo.

  I left them alone, and in the toilets I stood looking at myself in the mirror. What a weird day, I was thinking: one mad extreme to the other. A brothel to the Groucho Club in the space of ten minutes. This was my first time in the Groucho Club. I knew it was where famous people went – I’d seen Adam Ant standing outside it once – and so being there kind of felt important, as though I was on the right track. I was feeling pretty confident about the chat Kay and I had had too. The way the conversation had gone, I just had a feeling they were going to offer me the role.

  Giving them what I hoped was a decent amount of time, I walked back to the table. My heart was fluttering a little as I sat down. For a long moment they all just looked at me and then, with a smile, the producer said they would love to offer me the role. Yes! There is no feeling like it – thinking you’ve missed out on something only to be offered it is literally the most amazing sensation. The end result is worth all the pain. I sat there tingling with excitement. I had a lead role in an hour of prime-time television to look forward to and I couldn’t wait to get started.

  Though I wasn’t aware of it then, getting the part in Fat Friends would prove to be one of those pivotal moments: a real turning point in my life and the beginning of something really, really special. It was there I would find my feet as an actor and get noticed by one of my heroes. And, most importantly by far, I would meet my future best friend and, without question, the most talented person I know: Ruth Jones.

  But let’s not rush into all that just yet. First we had the read-through, which was back up in Leeds. As I got off the train, I spotted a woman standing in the middle of the station holding up a massive sign with the words ‘Fat Friends’ scrawled across it. Spotting Richard Ridings making his way over, I was keeping an eye peeled for anyone else I might recognise or who might fit the bill. There was nobody immediately obvious but, as I headed over, I found myself walking alongside a lady carrying a heavy suitcase. I asked if she needed a hand and she gratefully let me take it.

  And then it hit me. Oh my God, it was Alison Steadman. Alison Life Is Sweet, Nuts in May, Abigail’s Party Steadman. And I was carrying her case. Not only had Alison appeared in three of my favourite Mike Leigh films, she’d been married to the guy.

  A sudden thought struck me. There was no way she could be in the same TV series as me, right? Could she? Nah. No way. It was just coincidence, nothing more. I was happy enough that I’d bumped into her at all and that she’d allowed me to carry her suitcase. But, as we walked together towards the lady holding the sign, Alison didn’t pull away – she was matching me step for step. Still, it was only as we both climbed into the people-carrier and sat next to each other that I was prepared to believe the truth. I was going to be in a TV series with one of the all-time greats of British television.

  With the show running for six hour-long episodes, there were two directors doing three each. I’d met David Wheatley at the first audition: he was directing the first three. Audrey Cooke was directing mine. I won’t go into all the details of how the shoot went – it was wonderful, amazing, life-changing – apart from to say that the first time Ruth and I really got talking was after we’d finished the first read-through. Ruth, who was playing Kelly, had some big emotional scenes and had tears in her eyes as we came to the end. We had a chat about it afterwards and there was something, right then, that just seemed to click between the two of us. I’m happy to say that click has never gone away.

  I couldn’t wait for the series to air and, when it did, about 10 million people tuned in. I think everyone involved was pretty bowled over by the reaction. Four weeks into the series and my episode came around – my first leading role and the first time I’d held down an hour of prime-time television. I was at home in Hazlemere watching with Mum, Dad and Rudi. By the time it was over, all three of them were in tears. Almost immediately after it ended, the phone started ringing: aunts and uncles, cousins, friends from previous shows, schoolmates – it was absolutely amazing.

  The show was a runaway success, which wasn’t that surprising given the talent i
nvolved and all the great performances: Alison, Ruth, Richard, everyone really. By the end of the run, there were rumours flying about that the show might be up for some awards. Not for a moment did I think I’d be up for anything, so I had to be picked off the floor when Kay Mellor phoned and told me I’d been nominated in the ‘Best Newcomer’ category for the Royal Television Society Awards. It was a proper you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me moment. I’d gone from reading the script on Shelley’s floor to being nominated for an acting award. Huh?

  And so it was that Shelley and I went along to our first awards ceremony. Shell looked resplendent in her evening gown, and I think I looked all right in my rented tux. The show was due to start at seven o’clock and so, being keen, Shell and I got there at 6.45 p.m. and for the next hour and three-quarters did nothing but wait for everyone else to turn up. It didn’t really kick off until at least half eight, but it didn’t matter – we just floated around drinking in the atmosphere (and the free drinks). This was a major TV awards do, and I still couldn’t believe that I’d been nominated. Jamie Oliver, Rob Brydon and Steve Coogan were all there, people I’d admired for years, and I was there taking a seat among them.

  It occurs to me now that I had no idea who I was up against until we actually sat down at the table. The other nominees turned out to be Dom Joly for Trigger Happy TV and Rob for Marion and Geoff. As soon as I saw his name on the paper, I knew Rob would win. I mean, the guy created a whole series around a guy sitting in a taxi. I certainly didn’t mind losing to Rob, and I wouldn’t have minded losing to Dom either. As I saw it, to be nominated along with two guys who had written and created their own shows was an achievement in itself. I was just a young actor who took the lead in one episode of a series. No contest.

  Finally, the ‘Best Newcomer’ category came around. I remember holding Shelley’s hand as our names were called and a clip from each of the shows was played to the audience. And the winner was … Rob Brydon, of course. The two of us spoke briefly together afterwards, and that’s when I discovered that he and Ruth had gone to school together. Rob admitted he hadn’t seen the show, but Ruth had told him I’d been great in it, which was very nice to hear. We got on really well – there’s nothing to dislike about Rob. He’s a charming, hilariously funny man.