He's a man of many parts - actor, former drayman and Newportonian. PAUL PLATT talks to John Cording

UP at the top of John Cording's CV is a long list of his best accents. I challenge his Geordie. He says: "Why aye man, ah can dee that nee botha."

It's spot on, and a startling change from the rich, Queen's English they taught him at drama school to replace his Newportonian twang.

We embark on a world tour: a puzzled Scot, a Deep South hillbilly, a charming Indian. South African is a bit trickier.

Finally we get back to the real John Cording, 60, who a few years ago returned to Newport and bought a house in St Julians, a few streets away from where he was born.

He's glad to be back, and next week plays to a home crowd in a stage adaptation of the hit film Brassed Off.

On the way to the pub we pass the new Riverfront Theatre, where it's likely that John will play in the coming years. He looks at the controversial blue tiles, and adds: "I'm very pleased it's here. It'll bring the theatre to more people.

"Theatre has always needed backing and has always been short of money. Thatcher never considered the arts or sports part of life. That view is changing, particularly after the Olympics.

"I hope the world of theatre gets some help. It's dreadful that some actors in fringe theatre are expected to work for free.

"We want to attract more people in, but with tickets in London at £35 a head, easily making a night out £100, how many can afford that?"

We get to the pub and he lights a cigarette. He gave up smoking for six months - until he starred in a German cigarette commercial and had to inhale.

His other work includes TV credits with The Bill, Heartbeat and Poirot, and decades of work in theatre - from A Midsummer Night's Dream, to One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest. He's also been in the movies, most notably in Superman - "I was a thug who had to hit him over the head. It was a fun job."

John used to be a drayman at Newport brewery Ansells, but got into acting in his spare time with the YMCA.

He loved working at the Little Theatre under the directorship of Arthur Dolman, and in the 60s went to London to train as an actor.

"Moving from a steelworking town to the middle of London was just fantastic. I thought I would have a go," he says.

"My heroes back then were Marlon Brando and James Dean. Every actor thinks they're going to be a film star. The dream is to wake up in the morning and go downstairs to five or six scripts.

"But it doesn't always turn out like that. There are so many levels to acting. It's about being in the right place at the right time. But even that doesn't always work. It's very precarious, 90 per cent of actors have something else that they do to earn money. I've done carpentry and building.

"There was a time when banks wouldn't give you a mortgage if you were an actor.

"But I feel so fortunate to have continued to do this. I've been Henry VIII, John Proctor in the Crucible. I get to try things out."

We talk about his preparation for roles, remembering lines, and his plans to buy a bolthole in Normandy.

He's scathing about TV: "Repeat after repeat. EastEnders, repeat, Coronation Street. I never watch soaps. I don't want to get emotionally caught up in watching them. Good dramas aren't frequent enough. It's worrying. Even cinema is becoming a soap. It's the same few stars selling their names rather than a product."

Suddenly he gets up to show me the walk of a 90-year-old man he recently used. It's a bow-legged shamble around the bar. The drinkers might not recognise John, but they know he's an actor.

To prepare for his role in Brassed Off, which follows a pit band sticking together through mine closures, he shadowed the conductor of Newport Brass Band. "He asked me, can you count to four? Then you can conduct. It was a bit more involved than that, but with a bit of cheating I can carry it off."

His arms jerk to an imaginary brass band. His face twists in concentration. He looks very much like Pete Postlethwaite, who took the role of a conductor in the film version.

"I saw the film years ago but ours is a very different creation. It's been transplanted from Lancashire to Wales and the music is Welsh.

"It's quite a political work about the loss of community after the pit closures. It was a pity that way of life had to go, and it was to do with money and greed. Why? Just to make more money?

"The theme will strike a chord in Newport. My father worked at the Whiteheads site and my brother was at Llanwern."

Now a grandfather with four daughters from a previous marriage, John adds: "I'll never retire, which is why I don't have a pension. They're always looking for actors in their eighties and nineties.

"I love the theatre because you don't have to see what the director wants you to see. There's a whole stage to look around. The viewer becomes the director."

Brassed Off, produced by Clwyd Theatr Cymru, is showing at Pill Millenium Centre from Wednesday, September 29, to Saturday, October 2. The Bedwas, Trethomas and Machen bands will join the actors.