Lifting the lid on my showbiz coffin capers

THREE years ago, i was in the brilliant production of The Addams Family at Sutton Town hall, with the local Manor Musical Theatre Company. Someone was required to spend about eight minutes, during the opening number, in a closed coffin — ideally a young lady, so the coffin could be carried on to the stage more easily. Surprisingly, there were no volunteers. i stepped forward. Though i was a mere 12 st in weight, castors were added to the coffin to aid its movement. it was a genuine lined coffin and i put a stop on it so the lid was open about an inch or so. i played a Victorian gentleman with a frock coat and top hat — one of the dead ancestors the family summoned from the crypt in the opening number. each night, from the wings i would climb in, lid sealed, and be wheeled on stage. My cue came from a principal player when told to awaken the dead from the crypt. i would put talcum powder on the top hat and, as my coffin lid was lifted, sit up, blow the talc (to look like dust) off my hat, stretch a few times and be helped up to join the other ancestors to do a macabre dance. This was fine, except that when the coffin was not in use and placed in the wings, it became a useful seat. So the stop on it sunk down and by the end of the week i was in complete darkness. On the final night, the backstage crew said: ‘eric, we want to take a video clip of you getting into the coffin for the last time.’ in the semi-gloom i lifted the lid and one of our props ladies, who was hiding in there, sat up. i nearly passed out. At the end of the show we had drink and food, and at 11.30pm i was asked if i could take the coffin and show props home to store them in my garage. We put them in the back of my car and some flower garlands were placed on the coffin lid. Arriving home, i realised i was playing golf the next morning and it wouldn’t look good to have a coffin in the back of my car. i envisaged the police waiting for me after my game. i decided, at nearly midnight, to move it into the garage. As i was struggling with it, a neighbour offered to help. i hurriedly explained the situation and hoped he’d not peered through his curtains to make sure i wasn’t digging a hole in the back garden! More mirth later when the gas meter man came and was surprised to see the coffin, on its end, alongside the meter. i kept a straight face and said it was a bargain on eBay and would be useful some time in the future for me or my wife.

Eric Jones, Sutton Coldfield, W. Mids.