The Players: Taking Hollywood for a Ride [Paperback]

Reminiscent of Catch Me If You Can, this is the astonishing true story of how a bankrupt con man bounced back to beat Hollywood at its own game.

Colin Hayday's first scam was ingenious: he bought a skyscraper - with no money. When the scam failed, he realised the story could make a money-spinning movie. So he drove a taxi around Soho, London's film district, pitching the idea to everyone who got into his cab. When he picked up the Oscar-winning mogul behind Taxi Driver, The Sting and Close Encounters of the Third Kind, his next scam began.

The Players is about endless cunning, reckless audacity, famous names and a most unlikely duo: Colin Hayday and screenwriter Jo Reynolds. It reveals the true story behind their $15 million movie deal and how they played off the world's press against the mighty Hollywood machine - to keep their dream alive.

Few cabs were working that night; they were rolling in as infrequently as winning lottery balls. I resigned myself to waiting and prayed I wouldn’t get a gabby cabbie.

I didn’t notice Colin himself when I stooped under the hunchbacked roof of his cab. The interior was immaculate but abattoir cold. I was cocooned in gloom when Colin’s booming voice ricocheted round the cabin.

‘Where are you taking me? Anywhere interesting?’

That made me feel worse still: I’d got a gabby cabbie. But his delivery was so relentlessly cheerful I felt obliged to park my sulk.

‘Ladbroke Grove, please,’ I said curtly, hoping to deter further conversation.

‘Cheer up. One day it’ll be Holland Park.’

I didn’t reply because I couldn’t bear any more of his pep talk. Within thirty seconds of meeting Colin I’d prejudged him to be a man obsessed with money – and the sound of his own voice.

‘What do you do for a living? Anything interesting?’ he asked.

I really didn’t want to join his conversation; he seemed quite capable of conducting the whole thing on his own.

‘I write,’ I said limply.

‘What? Books?’

‘Films.’

‘Anything made?’

‘No.’ Worst two letters in the world.

‘Well, don’t worry about that. I’ve got a good story for you.’
He braked hard outside my house. I was suddenly all smiles.

‘You should write that down,’ I said.

‘I can’t. I’m dyslexic.’

He handed me a business card.

‘If you want to write it, give me a bell.’

I read the card: COLIN HAYDAY – PURVEYOR.

‘Purveyor?’ I asked. ‘Purveyor of what?’

‘Whatever the fuck you like!’
Later, he told me about the man who’d given him the idea to turn his story into a film:
‘Two years ago, I’m in Wardour Street. This wealthy couple gets in. I know they’re wealthy coz they want the Savoy. They’re "petrols" – petrol tanks – Yanks.

‘Anyway, I say, "What do you do for a living? Anything interesting?" And she says, all proud, "My husband’s in movies." "Any money in it?" I say. "There can be," the man says. Now I like the sound of that, but he don’t want to talk, so I turn to her. And she says, "There’s money in it if your audience likes your story." "I’ve got a story for you," I say and off I go.

‘When I’m done, the wife looks shocked. "You poor man," she says. "You’re right," I said, "I’m skint. That’s why I’m back in the cab." I tell them I didn’t always drive a cab, but I kept the licence just in case – had it nearly thirty years – was the first exam I passed – was the only exam I passed. Learning every street in London's quite a trick if you can’t read. Then the man asks me: "Is it true?" "Yes," I say. "Every last word of it." "It would make a great film," he says. "Go on, then," I say. "No one’s stopping you."

‘Anyway, we get to the Savoy and he says, "I’ll take a look at the script." "What script?" I say. He’s amazed. "You haven’t got a script? Everyone in Hollywood has a script." "I’m a dyslexic cab driver," I say. "Give me a break." Then he says, "Get a script and I’ll take a look. It’s a good story." "And you just paid a fiver to hear it," I say. Then I say to him, "What’s your name?" But he won’t answer. So his wife chips in, "You really don’t know anything about the movie business, do you?" "No," I say. "But if there’s money in it, I’m willing to learn. So, what is your name?" I try again. His wife’s about to answer, but he keeps her quiet and says, "If you’re any good, you’ll find me."’
‘Now,’ Colin told me, ‘that is what I call a challenge.’