I'm terrified! Get me out of here! Deep beneath the pavement of York lies the city's scariest attraction, the York Dungeon. But for some it is all a bit too much.

Staff were shocked when an actor had to flee the Dungeon in terror - during his audition!

"He seemed perfect for the part," says performance supervisor Tania Dron.

"He was tall with masses of white hair. But during the audition we became increasingly concerned by his behaviour. He kept pulling faces and his eyes got wider and wider."

The Dungeon needs actors to play the part of wizards, a hangman and witches.

"Naturally, we expected anyone applying would realise it was going to be a spooky place to work. But it just overwhelmed him.

"He met two staff members and, initially, he seemed to be getting into the spirit of the place, but when we introduced him to Bernie, our assistant performance supervisor, he just crumbled.

"Bernie, towering over him with his long dreadlocks, just proved too much. He looked faint and ran off saying he couldn't work here, because it was just too scary." says Tania.

So The Dungeon's quest for fresh acting talent continues. Are you man, or woman, enough to do it? This time Tania recommends some basic pre-audition criteria.

"If you're not afraid of the dark or things that go bump in the night you will at least have the nerve to make it through the audition."

Scaredy cats need not apply.

s IT'S nice to be remembered after 264 years so I thank Lily for marking my "death-day".

She left this large, expensive stargazer lillies and orchids cross on my gravestone in St George's churchyard, York, last Monday, April 7, to mark my passing in 1739 with these tear-jerking lines:

"Dick,

You are my gypsy King

I am your gypsy Queen

The hands of time may separate us

But still I see you in my dreams

Ride my love - just ride

They cannot hurt you now

Ride upon soft angels' wings

Through rainbows and through clouds.

Eternal love."

It is signed Lily with an X for a kiss. Pass the tissues, I've come over all unnecessary.

So step forward Lily, my love, I should like to give you a big kiss and, courtesy of The York Dungeon, a free Gold Card pass to all Merlin Entertainments Group attractions in Britain and Europe including their Sea Life centre in Scarborough, among others, until my death-day on April 7 next year.

They will even throw in a "goodie bag" of Dick Turpin memorabilia from the York centre for Lily if she can provide tangible evidence she bought and placed the lovely wreath on my grave.

- MARK Herman, York film director and screenwriter of Brassed Off, Little Voice and now Hope Springs, is a keen Hull City supporter. He attends every game he can when work allows.

Last season, he had found himself regularly sitting next to two empty seats.

Same scenario every match at Boothferry Park until Boxing Day when a glum-looking geezer and his son took up position next to him.

Curiosity roused, Herman asked why the seats had always been vacant until then.

"The wife," came the gruff reply. "She got us season tickets... as a Christmas present."

Oblivious to the season running from August to May, she had kept them under wraps until Christmas Day to surprise them. They were surprised all right, they paid to see matches for which they had a season ticket. What is it with women and football?

- SCOURGE of thespians the length and breadth of this sceptered isle, Evening Press theatre critic Charles Hutchinson has made his first stage appearance in 20 years.

Not since playing the sporty Sandy with Boy George dollops of make-up in Noel Coward's Hay Fever for the Kirkby Malzeard Players had Hutchinson performed in a theatrical entertainment.

However, he was cajoled out of retirement last weekend to tread the boards in Village Miscellany, a fund-raising night of poetry and readings in aid of the village church in Markington, Harrogate.

Hutchinson was cast well out of real-life, white-collar-type character as a cunning builder with an eye on the village teacher in the short play Parochial Problems.

"It was only 20 minutes but I haven't been so nervous since I asked my wife, Wilma, to marry me and accidentally presented her with a box rather than the ring inside," says the shy, retiring, histrionic hack.

Among the full house last Friday night was former Evening Press theatre critic-turned-author Robert Beaumont.

His verdict?

"I feel he has missed his true vocation," he said. "I can think of no one in the whole world who could play a scheming windbag of a womaniser better than him!"

Updated: 09:50 Saturday, April 12, 2003