Why would I write a story about somebody who is self satisfied, oblivious to the world outside?. Why think I live in some Walt Disney womb somewhere, nobody wants these stories?.
At least I reveal myself, and my real life is not all butterflies and chintz. Dispel the myth that I, or that anyone, has everything in life, because it is superficial and transient. People mistakenly believe that fame and money can give them a god given miracle. I know it can't.
After all I cannot reveal that I am a gay politician, or shave my head like Britney Spears, I did not want to eat cockroaches in the jungle. I did not want to do "Come dine with me" and eat other people's ghastly food. So I thought I would ask for no favours, or cost anybody any money, or walk on other peoples bodies to look interesting. I thought I would put my money where my mouth is and tell the truth in all its gory details. It is indeed approximately who I was ten years ago, although I am naturally harder than my brilliant actress, and more self deprecating. Justine has put into my play a sensitivity at the end that sadly I never felt. It is a play that most women that I have spoken to, find something to interest them.
This man Matt could have come in and have farted and it would be a breath of fresh air. I admire Matt Trueman's wit, if only he acted, instead of writing about other people's performances, this speaks volumes about his own stage career. Oxford followed by Central, We are not so different. We are on the same rung of the ladder, but I can't decide which direction he is going in.
So in answer to my critics and to quote Marilyn Monroe, "Those that know me better, know better
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