I was chatting with Mike Peters, as I often do, when he casually dropped the sort of line that only Mike can:
“Sara Sugarman’s in town, casting for her new film Vinyl at the Pavilion in Rhyl – think Marni might want a part?”
My daughter Marni, was both star-struck and fearless, she ended up spending a full day on set as one of a group of teenage fans chasing a young band. My niece and nephew, Erin and Rhys, were also in on it, cast as extras in a funeral scene. For a film about music, youth, and reinvention, it felt only right that the family got involved.
Then Mike looked at me and grinned.
“You’ve got to be in it too – just turn up. Tell them I sent you.”
And so I did.
Mike also had the idea of a band playing in the Pavilion foyer during auditions and did I have any suggestions: Carpet! I cajoled local grunge legends Carpet into playing. Picture it: a raw, fuzzy wall of filthy guitars bouncing off the glass walls, bemused auditionees queueing for their moment while a live band tore it up just meters away. It was surreal. It was brilliant. It was Keeping it Rhyl.
When I turned up to audition, the room was full of hopefuls. I sat, waited, watched the low budgetness unfold. Then I was called in.
Inside was Sara Sugarman, flanked by two others. She looked up, curious. I explained – probably a bit sheepishly – that I wasn’t here to audition per se, but that Mike had told me to come down, that I was meant to have a cameo.
Sara’s eyes lit up.
“I’ve got just the part for you,” she said.
“Come back next week.”
Tuesday, 17 August 2010, I arrived back at the Pavilion with my young son Declan in tow. He was a little shy but well-behaved – a miracle considering how long we waited. They even offered him a part, but he politely declined. We ended up spending hours with a motley crew of film extras: mostly local doormen from Rhyl, including one standout character called Lordy, who kept spirits high with relentless banter and mischief.
Time dragged. We’d been there since 11:30am. By 3pm, we hadn’t filmed a frame. Then something happened that jolted the day alive: Keith Allen walked in.
Yes, that Keith Allen – renegade, rock-and-roll wild card, and bona fide screen legend. Watching him was something else. One minute we were chatting casually about Lily (yes, that Lily Allen) and Twin Town, the next minute Sara called “Rolling!” and he snapped into character like flipping a switch. One second he’s your funny mate from down the pub, the next he’s full-throttle intensity. It was mesmerising.
Oh, and Perry Benson and Phil Daniels were there too – yep, Quadrophenia, EastEnders, Parklife Phil Daniels. Just hanging about like it was the most normal thing in the world.
The Big Moment (All 3 Seconds of It)
When I finally got called, I was dressed in a security guard’s outfit and given my cue:
“Manhandle Keith Allen into the dark room and tell him to calm down.”
That was it. My film debut.
Three seconds of camera time.
One slightly forceful shove.
And a line delivered with all the calm authority I could muster while trying not to fanboy all over Keith Allen’s coat.
It might not sound like much, but it was ace. I had a front-row seat into the world and theatre of filmmaking.
Vinyl: A Love Letter to Music and Mischief
If you’re not familiar with Vinyl, it’s a comedy inspired by a real-life stunt pulled by Mike Peters and his band The Alarm. In 2004, frustrated by music industry ageism, they released a single 45 RPM under the name of a fake young band—and watched it climb the charts. Vinyl takes that story and runs with it, adding laughs, characters, and charm.
Director, Sara Sugarman was born in Rhyl in October 1962 and began her career as a punk‑rock teenager fronting a band called The Fractures, managed by Mike Peters. Their early connection in Rhyl's music scene later brought her to direct Vinyl and film it in their shared hometown. Sugarman later trained at RADA and appeared in films like Sid & Nancy before transitioning to directing (Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen, Very Annie Mary, and eventually Vinyl).
It didn’t matter that my screen time was brief or that Declan didn’t end up in the final cut. The film was OK, no one was gonna get an Oscar, but it had a certain nostalgic charm to it, and of course it was filmed in Rhyl where it all began, the scrappy, butt of many a joke North Wales town that raised so many of us.
