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It’s a little awkward, standing nose to nose with strangers. Here, inside a lift the size of a train loo, are two young actresses, a PR man, one actor on the brink of proper stardom (Rory Kinnear) and me, all inching down through the body of the bustling, gossipy National Theatre. We’ve been silent for two floors and there’s a hint of desperation in the air, so Rory, being a pro, steps into the breach. ‘Did you hear about the reading they sent me to last week?’ he asks. PR man says no. ‘I was told to bring along my favourite book to read a chapter to an audience, but when I got there all I could see were children. There was literally no one over ten. And as I waited for the kids to leave, I gradually realised that this was my audience. No one had told me! So I got out my copy of Ulysses…’ Rory pauses.
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