THE CHEKHOV IMPERSONATOR

bad drawing Chekhov

The story goes that Chekhov was on holiday in Yalta when he was spotted by a fan who had seen all the Moscow Art Theatre productions. The fan resembled Chekhov and started to go to Literary gatherings inYalta, claiming to be Chekhov. Whilst there he would rubbish Stanislavski, saying his beard was too big and that he couldn’t act, and that his books were incomprehensible at best! This got back to Moscow and Stanislavski, usually a mild mannered man, is on the next, NEXT, train to Yalta. He knows where Chekhov is staying. Knocks on door. Yes? Punch. Chekov unconscious for three whole days!

Now whilst he is unconscious he has a recurring dream about a street, which he walks down, again and again, always passing a lamppost with a broken base, and a blind accordionist playing a sentimental tune and then passing a row of single story houses, all of which have red doors. Strange! And then, walking towards him, is him! Himself! CHEKHOV! Impossible!

He awakes, on the third day, in a sweat. He remembers being punched, but no idea why it happened, so he questions people. They explain how he rubbished Stanislavski. His beard? Incomprehensible books? Chekhov mystified. But I didn’t!!!

Angry and depressed Chekhov wanders the streets of Yalta obsessing over the whole strange business. When he eventually takes note of where he is, he sees a lamppost with a broken base. A blind accordionist walks towards him. He is opposite a row of single story houses which all have red doors. And out of one comes… HIM! CHEKHOV!!!


It is of course the Chekhov impersonator, who on seeing the real Chekhov is overcome with remorse at the foolish prank he played and prostrates himself before him. Forgive me Master! I’m not worthy! Chekov is bemused to say the least. Then he is overcome with a terrifying anxiety and turns to run but the impersonator has him round the ankles!!!! You see dear Listener, in Chekhov’s mind, it is his death, no less, that has grasped him and is pulling him down! He falls. They roll in the gutter. The accordionist appears and plays a sentimental tune over them. What a nightmare! At last Chekhov frees himself and runs for his life!


Still contrite the Impersonator writes a letter of apology and explanation. Chekhov at last enlightened! Olga his Mistress points out that his dream foretold the future, and that this conclusively proves that the spirit world and its attendant stuff like ectoplasm, fairy lore and occult bananas, must be true, as she has always maintained. But Chekhov, being a bloke, a rationalist, and a Doctor; flies into a rage, the result of which is that they are not on speaking terms throughout the whole run of Uncle Vanya!!!

And the Chekhov Impersonator? What happened to him? Well. He moved to St. Petersburg. Opened a pie shop. And did very well. Meat and potato!!!

Yalta!