My unbridled humiliation as Madonna’s spanking pony

When Tim Wallers won a part in the singer’s new film he had no idea he would be at her mercy on his hands and knees

When I first clapped eyes on Madonna she was in a fit of giggles. Looking every inch the star – despite her beige tracksuit and platform trainers – she was sitting with the producer of her new film, Filth and Wisdom, in a grey, dilapidated casting suite off Soho Square. The previous actor to audition had fled, very red in the face. I had a sinking feeling the laughter was at his expense.

My agent had said the role was an MP who “likes horses”. How bad could it be? So I was feeling pretty confident as I was ushered into the casting room, until Madonna – or “M”, as we were told to call our director – shook my hand, smiled to reveal that famous gap in her teeth and said in her New York twang: “You’re auditioning for the part of Mr Frisk, an MP with a very strong horse fetish. In this scene he’s in a brothel getting his rocks off while a guy is riding on you.”

Sorry, what? I had assumed, now that she was an English lady of the manor, her directorial debut would involve chaps on horseback in tweed: Madonna meets Merchant-Ivory. In fact her film, which was screened to mixed reviews at the Berlin film festival last week, is about a Ukrainian immigrant called Andriy who finances his dreams of becoming a rock star by moonlighting as an S&M escort who spanks men for a living. “So you will be on your hands and knees for most of the scene,” she said briskly. “Are you comfortable with that?”

I heard myself say, “Yes. Fine,” rather too emphatically.

“So can you get down on all fours now so we can film you?”

“No problem. Who’d have thought it: Madonna asking me to get on all fours?” I said lamely. Handing the hapless casting director a tie, she asked him to play Andriy and sit on my back. Rather apologetically, he climbed on.

All I can say is that my actor’s instinct must have kicked in – just get the gig, whatever it takes. I found myself with my hands and chino-clad knees (this was an MP role after all, so I was in my finest navy jacket, cream slacks and brogues) on a dirty floor in the West End, bucking, writhing and frothing in clueless search of equine ecstasy, while M shouted instructions at me to “Bite on the tie like it’s a rein”, “Move more wildly” and whinny as if my life depended on it. After two minutes I collapsed; well, I was 41.

Check out the complete story at The Times Online.

Thanks to our Team member rayoliteuk.