My Humble 'Leading' Role In Our Greatest Olympic Games Ever

Billy - boodles

With the Winter Olympics in Sochi upon us in the new, liberal, free Russia.

 It has led me to reflect on my own humble part in the outstanding success of our games.

It is July 20 2012 - I was on the poop deck of the SS Golden Slumber taking the zimmer framed pensioners for their pre lunch 'Disco Recuperation' session when Raymondo, our lovely drag artist, came running up to me, 'There's a phone call for you,' the queen screamed.

It was The Boil, himself -  'Sir' Danny Boyle.
'Boiley!' I say.
'No time for niceties,' he said in his rich Irish brogue.
'Oh Danny Boyle, oh Danny Boyle, the pipes, the pipes are calling...' I sang oblivious to the fear in his voice. He interjected,' I'm up the creek, Billy,  without the proverbial. I've been given this gig to open the Olympics. I cannae do it, man. Can you help?'

I had known Danny from his early days as a struggling fringe director on the London scene. He had helped me direct my moving tribute to England's Rose - Lady Diana - in my piece 'I was having a kebab when I heard the sad news.'

I watched him grow from strength to strength until luckily winning his Oscar for that film.

Straightaway, I warned him off Branagh, lovely actor as he is, he'll end up wanting to direct himself, I said. There were some lovely actors on Hollyoaks, I told him, that are just as good.

I never, at any point, pushed myself forward. If anything in the business I am known for my enormous bushel!

 I refrained. Unlike others. Mr Bean.

The Boil was pulling his hair out. Apparently Cameron had been on at him to cut the 'boring' NHS bit and put something in about the bankers - along the lines of' how the world really couldn't survive without them pushing non existent tranches of money about purely for their own momenumental greed and on the backs of the poor. (OK - I've made that bit up - but I am the son of a miner after all.)

Anyways he asked me if I would consider a role in the opening ceremony. I was humbled.


So that is how I found myself 2 days before the opening ceremony deep in the bowels of the Olympic Stadium. The Boil had told me that everybody had to be drug tested - it was to be the cleanest games ever. So I was waiting in a small changing room holding my sample bottle, unable to bring myself to perform, shall we say when the door creaked open and a little old lady came in.

I recognised her immediatley as the mother-in-law of our own dear England's Rose.Her Majesty.

'Billy Elliot, is that you?' She said.
'It is I, Majesty.'
 'You've let yourself go.' I was touched. She had remembered me from a Royal Variety performance, hosted by that fine comedian Jimmy Tarbuck.

We both sat staring at our sample bottles.
'Nothing to do but wait.' she said, regally, and pulled out a copy of the Racing Post.

After awhile. she offered me a Panatella cigar and I presumed to speak, 'so are you running aganist Usian Bolt then, Ma'am?'
She laughed a queeny laugh,' no, Billy, they want me to jump out of a helicopter with David Craig, but I'd don't think I'll do it. The family are still recovering from 'It's A Royal Knockout.'

'Majesty,' I presumed again, 'Please do it, Ma'am, for England'

She smiled, had a brief moment of contemplation  and said, 'One is ready to do this now,' tapped her sample bottle and swept off to the cubicle.

I don't know if Boiley found out about my intervention but if you watch the scene with David Craig her Majesty is writing a letter and on it she writes 'Thank you Billy!'
Click here to see The Queen personally thank me!

Love One Another

Billy x

PS In the end I was unable to perform at The Olympics because of my ongoing dispute with Sir Elton John and his husband David.

How I saved The National Theatre

Hail Billy-ionaire !

The recent spat at The Bolshoi Ballet where a disgruntled dancer threw acid into the face of his director (allegedly) reminds me of my own sad times on the theatrical musical 'CATS.'

Fur often flies in rehearsals. It really is a cauldron of a melting pot. An artist's ego is like a speck of golddust that can often be trampled on by a clot footed, cloven heeled director.

Sir Trevor Nunn had asked me to bring my 'enormous talent' (his words, not mine) to the original conceiving of CATS. I was riding high on a crest of a wave with my own award winning  avant garde dance troupe, THE BILLY ELLIOT DANCE COMPANY. We were like The Michael Clark Company but without the daftness.

I had never done any 'acting' before so I was humbled to star alongside such luminaries as Judy Dench, Frances Ruffelle (?) and Brian Blessed.

To be frank when Sir Trevor (Trev) and Lord Andrew (Lord Andrew) told me of their idea to put music to poems about cats I thought it had turkey written all over it.

But Sir Trevor and Lord Andrew both agreed that it was only I who could bring to life the character of the naughty alley cat with the Bavarian ancestry, 'Rumtumtigglehimler!'

As I said, I had never done any 'acting' before so I was amazed when at the first day rehearsals Sir Trevor told us that he wanted us all to BE cats. at which point his assistant, a waspish Terry Hands, brought in several bowls of milk and placed them around the 'space'.
 'For the next few hours', qouth he,' you will be feline' and he flounced off.

The sight of Dame Judy lapping, purring and preening was a  'acting' masterclass and I believe has helped made me the actor I am today. I often draw on a that 'emotional recall technique' when I'm giving my my clown workshop for the 'Young at Heart Early Risers'  (after 'Beginners Quoits') on the Upper Deck.

Me entertaing the old folk on the cruise ship!

However I did draw the line when Sir Trevor put down a litter tray in the middle of the 'space' and Brian Blessed promptly defecated in it.

I decided Runtumtigglehimler rather liked having a fag by the bins outside stage door. It was here I SAVED THE NATIONAL THEATRE.

Dame Judy had joined me outside as she was craving a Lambert and Butler. This was after a gruelling morning chasing an imaginary giant ball of string around the 'space'. 

'Billy.' La Dame said to me, 'that fecker Nunn has basically got me doing bolloxy skin work, in a furry leotard, whiskers and a self animated tail. Is this what my chuffin' career has come to?' She took a long drag on her ciggie and played with her fake ears, 'well stuff that for a bunch of soldiers, he can stick it up his catflap. I'm slingin' my butchers. I'd rather be on the game if this is the only work I get offered.'

I gazed at her for a long time between puffs, and placed a woolen paw on her shoulder, eventually I said, 'stick at it Judy.' She smiled. I could see she  had resolved to carry on in this business we call show. She then coughed up a fur ball.

Would she have gone on to the play the Queen? Would she had got an Oscar? Would the Natonal Theatre have survived for 50 years if I hadn't intervened? We will never know. As Hamlet said, and he was no bad judge of actors, 'the rest is history'

Love one another

Billy x

Next week -
The inside story of my years on  BILLY ELLIOT'S SUMMER SEASIDE

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