Being the producer for this show is like building a wall of Spam in a barn, at night, with wolves howling, and mice squeaking in the corners. Or a dream come true. Depends on the dream, I suppose. I don’t know really, I’m not the producer. I only make things up.
The producer for this show is a lady named Liz Clark. I’ve worked with her before.
She’s kinda crazy and wears only black. She knows the spirits on the concert hall catwalk by name.
She loves the stage and spent many years there. Now she changes sweaty body pack bandages for folks and loves every minute of it.
This is her in the very excellent Les Belles Soeurs, by Michel Tremblay,.
She had this to say about herself:
Sorry. I had to cut out what she said and replace it with something more child-friendly. This is the internet, you know.
So, having failed to elicit a suitable response from Liz before she moved onto doing actual stuff, I spoke with the Assistant to the Producer, Erin Welsh. She’s pictured above amidst a wall of Spam cans. She too, was overly busy.
- Paying bills
- Making calls
- Organizing parties
- Buying lingerie for the Laker Girls
- Teaching school/avoiding vomit spray
- Telling strange riddles about being at a certain time at a certain place.
Therefore, I declare the following:
That the Great Spamalot Producer Inquisition of the Year of our Lord 1013, in the Lovely Town of Cobourg, on the Isle of Britain, under the Rule of Arthur Pendragon the First and Foremost, Leader and Prognosticator, Fornicator, Dancer, Fighter and Walker of Silly Walks, Over.
All hail the ladies of Spamalot!