A little bit of Mirth – A Steve Layne Monologue

Back when I first started blogging in March I wrote my first monologue and created the character of Steve Layne. He is an actor with a flamboyant way of speaking. You get the impression that his life isn’t quite as good as the one his ego projects.

See here to read the first one:


I then wrote another monologue with the same character in April.



So here we see him once again, in his dressing room, getting ready for a performance.

Someone enters to find him staring off into space with a tear in his eye.

“Oh, hi there, I didn’t see you come in. You caught me unawares. Yes, I suppose I did look a bit melancholy.

I was just thinking about my life. It hasn’t been a bed of roses, that’s for sure, well maybe the thorns.

Would you be a dear and pass me one of those tissues?

Thanks love. There that’s better, I wouldn’t want my mascara to run. I could just hear the critics now ‘Steve Layne looks like a Panda on heat in his latest performance of Hamlet’. No, actually I’m not doing Hamlet, despite being in the mood for it. No, I’m in a comedy at the moment. It’s one I wrote myself actually. It’s called “A little bit of Mirth”. The main character is an actor who is struggling to find work and so reinvents himself as a stand-up comedian only to have a heart attack on stage, but the audience all think its part of the act and start laughing. No, it couldn’t happen to me, I’m as fit as a fiddle. I had a checkup just last week actually. Nothing wrong with my heart. They are a bit concerned about the skin lesions, but the theatrical make-up hides those, thank heavens.

I must say the reviews have been quite kind. One of them even spelt my name right. I’ve been called all sorts, you know. Stephen Lain, Steve Lean and even once Dave Conti, God knows why. So, it was nice they spelt it right. L.A.Y.N.E That’s right, with a Y and an E.

Oh, are you with a newspaper then? Oh, you write a blog, do you? You know, I thought I recognised you from somewhere. Yes, I was in the Pink Panther club last Thursday. Oh, that was you was it? Look, I’m sorry about that, I didn’t mean to run out and leave you with the Cab to pay for. It was your gold filling I accidentally swallowed, was it? Wild times, I do get a bit crazy when I’m on the Pernod.

Oh, thank you, Yes, I wouldn’t mind seeing you again next Thursday. It’s an Abba tribute night. That’s OK you can be Agnetha I prefer Anni-Frid anyway. Of course, you can see my Fernando anytime! Oh, you did. Well, I was very drunk, I can’t really remember.

Right, I must get ready for the show now. I have to say I am feeling in a much better mood now than I was earlier, all my Melancholy has turned to Mirth. Tell Ted out front that I said you could have a seat at the back, no love, It’s my way of saying thank you. It’s never busy anyway on Friday nights, I think there must be something good on Telly tonight.

Let me know what you think. Yes, I am quite happy for you to put a review on your blog. Only, be kind.”

The End

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 20/July/2018


I have used the following word prompts:

Word of the Day: Mirth


Fandango One Word Challenge: Melancholy

FOWC with Fandango — Melancholy

Ragtag Daily Prompt: Gold.



After the Play – A Steve Layne Monologue

This is part two of an earlier monologue I wrote called A Captive Audience about an actor I called Steve Layne. See here:


This is the second part…

Oh, You have come back, how lovely! Please take a seat. I’m only removing my make-up.

Well, what do you think? I have to admit it was one of my best performances. I can hear the critics now “Steve Layne delivers a performance like no other. Not a dry eye in the house.”

I am relieved it’s over, I always am after a show. I wish I didn’t fret so before hand but there you are. I hoped I would grow out of this stage fright but I never have. At least I’m not physically sick anymore.

Do you mind, can you pass me one of those facial wipes? Thank you.

It is so nice for you to come and see me. I’m sure you know this is our penultimate night here at the Dixon studio, Westcliff. One more night then we’re off to the Abbey Theatre in Nuneaton. Nuneaton doesn’t have the attraction of the sea front but they always give us a good welcome there.

Did you see my performance? I hope you recognised me under this make-up and in that costume. Of course, the role isn’t the biggest in the play, I only have two lines, but it is pivotal to the whole thing. I think I gave it something extra, don’t you? A little bit of Pazzazz for the audience. I definitely heard a gasp from the back row. Of course, it might have been a cough.

I do like this particular troupe of players. They seem to appreciate a man of my talents. Some of them, of course, are not long out of drama school and they get the best roles because of their youth and looks. It’s not based on merit, that’s for sure. I am hoping they will give me a meatier role when we move on to our next play. They’re talking of doing Death of a Salesman next. I can see myself in that part! It needs someone with a bit more gravitas and maturity, not one of the young pretty boys.

Of course, I always put in a good word for one of the plays by Agatha Christie. I love a good murder mystery, don’t you?

I long to do musicals again, like in my youth, but they are so difficult to get into. When they ask me what I have done and I say I was once in a production of Oliver, playing one of Fagin’s boys, they don’t sound impressed. OK So that was over twenty years ago, but it’s like riding a bike, you never forget. I can still sing and dance. I tried Pantomime but they want TV names nowadays. If you haven’t been on the telly, even a docu-soap, they are not interested. I tried dropping names of a few I worked with years ago, Bonnie Langford, Keith Chegwin. Not a sausage of a reaction.

Right the make-ups off, I look a bit more human now don’t I? I am starving, I don’t suppose you fancy grabbing a bite to eat and a drink do you? There’s a cheap pub down the road that does a meal and a pint for a fiver.

You can tell me all about yourself after all you’ve barely said a word.

Shall we go?


Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 17/April/2018


via Daily Prompt: Fret

The Life of the Neighbourhood Hygiene Control Officer – A Monologue

It’s time for my stroll around my neighbourhood. There’s always a lot going on, if you’ve a keen eye to spot things. People walk around with their eyes blinkered most of the time. They don’t see, hear, or smell anything. Rather than the three wise monkeys, it should be the three stupid humans.

Oh there goes that silly lady up the street with her four Boxer dogs. They’re taking her for a walk again. Why she doesn’t get a pair of roller skates and enjoy the ride, I’ll never know. Instead she digs her heels in and shouts, “Wait Bruno, Hold Nelly, Heel Rover, Walk Nero” while they ignore her and haul her along full tilt.

I see the people next door have got a new baby. I do love that new baby smell, don’t you? I will definitely pop round to say hello later on. I might take them a little present, if I pick up something nice on my walk. Oh dear I can hear it crying, probably wants a feed. It’s got a good pair of lungs on it, that’s for sure. That’s going to encroach on my afternoon naps a bit.

I think I’ll sit on that brick wall for a bit and soak up the sun. It has been raining for three days solid, so this bit of sunshine is most welcome. Ahh, that’s lovely! I can feel the warmth soaking into my bones. I won’t linger here for too long though. I’d like to do the full round today, as, with the rain and all, I’ve been shirking the last couple of days. I do have my job to do after all. I’m the neighbourhood hygiene control officer. It’s a nice job if you like walking, as I do. I just prowl around and anything unhygienic that I spot, I despatch it in the most humane way possible. You’d think people would be pretty grateful for this service I perform, but you wouldn’t believe how snooty some people can get. Quite a few people don’t appreciate what I do at all. They don’t even give me the time of day some of them. There are one or two, however, that do treat me with the respect that I deserve. They’re the nice ones. I am always extra fastidious where their houses are concerned. I give them an extra thorough check out.

Oh, this is awkward. There’s Duchess over there, pretending she doesn’t know me. She’s called duchess because she walks with her nose in the air, like she just doesn’t care. We used to be, you know, close. Unfortunately we had a little disagreement the last time we met and I scarpered pretty quickly. I am looking right at her, but she isn’t having any of it. It’s a shame she’s like that, I had hoped for a bit of fun later if we could reconcile our differences. Oh well never mind. There’s plenty more fish in the sea, so they say.

Time I got going on my rounds. I like to walk along this parade of shops. There is a good mix of different shops. There’s a hair salon, I’m not too keen on the smell, but Cheryl is one of those good people who give me the right sort of attention, so I’ll linger and see if she’s busy. Oh she’s dealing with that old woman from the bungalow opposite. She’s a nasty one, she is. Just because we had that little misunderstanding not long after we moved here, she has never forgiven me. Well as Cheryl’s busy trying to achieve the impossible, making that horrible witch look presentable, I’ll be on my way.

There’s Colin the dachshund tied up outside the newsagents. Now I am not really what you call a dog person. As a rule, I think they are rather stupid and uncivilised. Colin, on the other hand is an exception. He doesn’t rush up to you, like most dogs do, all slavering and shoving their wet noses in your face. Colin has lovely manners. He just wags his tail and sniffs. I don’t mind that. His owner is probably gossiping with the newsagent again. Poor Colin will be there for ages. I’ll just pop over and say hello, won’t take long.

There, see what I mean? Lovely manners. He’s definitely one of my favourite dogs. Unlike that big German shepherd over the next street. She chases everything, she does. The postman’s having a nervous breakdown over it. He leaves the letters in the privet bush most mornings. Poor chap.

Well, this is about as far as I go. See that road over there, between the big trees? There are a couple of nasty characters who live down that way who I am keen not to come into contact with again. Now I don’t mind a fight now and then but they carry it too far, if you ask me. They don’t like anyone just walking into their area. I don’t approve of No go areas. We should all be free to roam where we please, no borders. Unfortunately that lot don’t see it the same way. Don’t like the competition I think.

Right, it’s time for me to head home. I won’t go back the same way though. I head back through the gardens. There’s a lovely patch of Catnip I like to have a roll around in and then number eleven usually leaves out some fish heads for me.


I am a Cat you know?

I hope you didn’t think I was one of them silly humans did you? I mean, they are alright I suppose, but they do like to make themselves slaves to things. Slaves to their jobs, to their mortgages and their mobile phones. No don’t get me wrong, I take good care of my slaves, and they in turn look after me quite well. I am glad I’m free though.

There’s nothing like it, being a Cat.

Picture Care of my friend Michelle Greensted.

The End

copyright: Kristian Fogarty 06/April/2018



Introducing Elsie – A Monologue

Location: A bare room with some people sitting at a table.

In strides a woman, a force to be reckoned with…

“Ok, so here I am then.”

“Oh I can tell what you’re thinking. Oh yes.

I can read minds, you know.

I can look into your eyes and see every thought.

Empathy, I think they calls it.

You’re thinking what is she doing here, aren’t you?

You’re thinking I don’t belong here.

Yes, I know I’m right.

I’ve always had empathy.

It comes from being from a large family you know.

One of Nine I was.

Mum gave birth ten times, but we lost one, poor little mite.

Barely took a breath he did. Couldn’t afford a proper funeral, times were tough you know.

We buried him in an old shoebox.

Seeing mum’s shoes in the hall, no longer in their box, always made us think of our Philip.

We called him Philip after the Prince you know, him who’s now the Duke of Edinburgh. Well it was right after the wedding to Princess Elisabeth, The Queen I should say.

Anyway, growing up with all them brothers and sisters, and me often the one who looked after them, with Mum working in the factory, that’s what’s made me empathetic.

Tough too. We grew up tough.

Had to. Wouldn’t survive otherwise.

Had to make do and mend.

It’s made me the tough, hard working woman you see before you.

Oh I know you see me grey hair and think, she’s not got much go left in her. Well you’re wrong, I’ve got more gumption than people half me age.

These youngsters today haven’t got any go in ‘em.

They’ll pack up and give in long before I would. Keep at it, I will, till the things got done.

Anyway, I can’t stand here chatting all day.

There just one thing I’ve got to know, before I leave.

Have I got the job or not?”


End Scene

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 15/March/2018

A Captive Audience – A monologue.

I always get nervous before a performance. 

My parents told me that that was for the best.

If you didn’t get nervous before going on stage, you’d appear wooden and flat. You wouldn’t have the energy you needed to impart to the audience, to capture their imagination. 

That was the magic of the theatre. The seasoned pro’s were master wizards, drawing up their nervous energy and throwing it over the crowds like a net.

It’s a net of emotions that captivates and ensnares the audience. It creates a connection, so they feel everything the actor feels. They experience the trauma of the character’s past, the character’s terror as the drama unfolds or the adoration as the character falls in love. 

It is magic; a touch of stardust. It is also incredibly draining. An Actor gives so much of themselves, every performance, every night, that it is a miracle that every actor doesn’t end up in some kind of sanatorium after every run. 

I’ve been treading the boards since I was seven, as part of my parents act, but now a grown man of thirty, and my parents now dead and gone, I know all the tricks of the trade. I wish I’d mastered my fear more. It is handy to be able to use the energy when I need to, but I can’t control my nerves and applying make-up with my hands trembling is such a nuisance. Often I end up with wonky eyebrows, but luckily no one in the audience seems to notice. None of the critics has ever said “Oh you must see Steve Layne in the latest adaptation of The Crucible, his eyebrows are such a scream!”. Critics being the way they are would have definitely said something, if they had noticed. 

I have got better, at managing my nerves, I mean. As a kid I used to throw up quite a lot, before going on. Vomiting is never fun but imagine having to go on stage in front of an audience afterwards singing an upbeat song, like “The sun will come out tomorrow” with the horrible taste still in your mouth and worrying that you might have a bit of it on your chin. 

It’s no bed of roses you know, this lark.

But then It’s all I’ve ever really known. My Mum and Dad were quite famous, you know? Ever heard of Mabel and Jeffrey? That was them. They travelled all over the colonies, as they were called then. I was born in Kenya. I’ve not quite had their success, but I work hard. I once worked with Bonnie Langford. I was only in the Chorus, but it was nice to be in something really good for a change. 

Anyway, I had best get on and prepare my face. The curtain goes up in ten, so I’ve got to get into character. It’s been good to talk, take my mind off the nerves. Why not stick around and see the show? I’d be keen to hear what you think. I can see the critics now. “Steve Layne weaves his captivating spell once more on the audience!” 

Well we’re all captives of our dreams, aren’t we? 

See you after the show. 


Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 12/March/2018




via Daily Prompt: Captivating