I'm not posh at all. I grew up in Sheffield but never managed to pick up the accent - which was careless because there'd be some cache now in being a northern playwright, but I missed out on that one.
The villain is usually the most interesting part. But it has to be a smart thing. Just dumb cliche villains with a Russian accent and big muscles and a mean face, I don't know. My Russian accent isn't that great, and the muscles aren't that big and the mean face is not enough. You know what I mean? It gets very boring. Tedious stuff.
In Delaware, the largest growth in population is Indian-Americans moving from India. You cannot go to a 7-11 or a Dunkin Donuts unless you have a slight Indian accent. I'm not joking.
I'm a parrot. I can pick up an accent and just do it.
I want to do a character in a one-woman show who's a yoga teacher from the Bronx. I could do the best accent: 'Raise yaw ahms up! Reach faw da sky!'
The accent of one's birthplace remains in the mind and in the heart as in one's speech.
I just wanted to be an ordinary, middle-class person. When I was at Cambridge, I made great efforts to lose the last remnants of my Cockney accent.
Americans like the British kind of quirkiness and the strange accent. They find it kind of cute or something, with a certain charm.
I used to say that whenever people heard my Southern accent, they always wanted to deduct 100 IQ points.
If someone is very upper-class, you have a stereotype of him which is probably true. If someone has a working-class accent, you have no idea who you're talking to.