"Hi! I'm Barry Scott!" I roll my eyes as that bloody Cillit Bang advert comes on for at least the eighth time today. It's not even lunchtime yet. "Bang! And the dirt is gone!"
"Mum, why does that man always shout?" I'd almost forgotten my daughter, Dawn, sitting on the other sofa with the cat. I smile slightly.
"Because he's deaf, darling." Poor boy. I remember him before he went deaf. Such a sweet man, though he was quite the attention seeker. Always dreamed of acting, any acting. He never was quite bothered whether it was stage, TV, commercial…he'd take them all.
And then he had that awful, awful accident. He was going to an audition for Hollyoaks when a drunk driver came the other way in a Range Rover. Barry didn't stand a chance. Three weeks he spent in a coma, three weeks we all had to worry. And when he woke, the look of panic on his face…that memory will haunt me forever. No reason why he should have gone deaf, but he did, and that was that.
But he didn't let his deafness stop him. He spent three long years learning sign language, and then used that to his advantage. For a year or so, he worked as the signer on See/Hear, but he finally got bored. He spotted an audition in his local newspaper, and went, and by some twist of fate, got the job. Ever since then, he's been Mr Cillit Bang. And that was the story of why Barry Scott shouted.
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A.N. Yes, I know it's short. I was trying to ditch the writer's block. Think it may have worked!
Apologies for how bad it is though :S
