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Some time ago, I put forward the idea that being a Halloween costume model would be the worst job in the world.

I was wrong.

Last night, while watching an unsatisfying, commercial-ridden TV show about Ramses the Great, I realized that the worst job in the world is really that of an actor in a schmancy, over-the-top historical documentary. One week you’re playing an Egyptian slave, the next, you’re a colonial goodwife accused of witchcraft in Salem, Massachusetts, and the week after, you’re a bawdy-house tart afflicted with the plague in 17th century London. And for each of these roles, since you have no lines per se (which means your pay is pretty crappy, adding insult to injury), you have to spend painful hours in hair and makeup, then gesture your little heart out on camera to tell your story through mime. Jeez, Theda Bara had it easier…

So, while I was trying to focus on the recent “discoveries” of “archaeologists” (most of which were bemoaned by Jonno, who, you may or may not know, is an amateur Egyptologist himself), all I could think of was, “Damn, I could never seriously smite a Canaanite in a wig like that.”