I returned home in triumph yesterday after delivering a perfect Bullseye beneath the Winchester proscenium arch.
Given our previous apprehensions, the performance went spectacularly well. The definitive Bullseye appeared onstage at the appointed moment, to a ripple of applause from the large audience. My solo moment of running across the stage unaccompanied went as smoothly as me running across a stage unaccompanied, into my partner's waiting arms, always does. The only slight hiccup was that, at one point, Nick/Sikes accidentally called me 'Jasper' instead of 'Bullseye' but my partner was standing nearby and hissed "Bullseye!" at him, so it was very swiftly remedied and I don't think anyone else even noticed. My partner and I only stopped to say well done and goodnight to the rest of the cast before we scuttled quietly and unobtrusively into the night. We were snagged on the way to the car by a few audience members who wanted to fondle me and tell me that I was the star, but I don't think the director heard them.
Needless to say I am now, in the director's eyes, less popular than a pork chop in a synagogue. My partner and I did not repair to the pub with the rest of the galley-slaves after the performance, but I understand from one present that the director's abhorrence of me and my admiring public was a key topic of conversation. Two of the chaps commented on how well I had done, and how I added so much authenticity and life to the production. You may imagine how this was received by our Chief.
In all seriousness (oh, how I wish I was joking), the director announced to the assembled company that he will be putting an insert into all the lavish glossy programmes for the remaining performances, explicitly instructing the audience "not to applaud the dog".
My partner and I think that we might go to the pub with the others tonight and be relentlessly cheerful, just to annoy him. Heh heh heh... heh heh heh.... heh heh (cough).