There are many laughs in CenterStage Clovis Community Theatre's chipper new production of "Noises Off," but the talented Hayley Galbraith gets one of the best. As the third act of this zany show begins, Galbraith's character -- a dippy former grande dame of British theater who is starring in the play that serves as the "show within the show" part of the storyline -- is supposed to answer a ringing phone on stage.

The phone doesn't ring, of course, because this is one of those backstage comedies in which everything that can go wrong does. Galbraith glares at the phone. Nothing. For a fraction of a second, she scrapes nervously. Still nothing. Finally, in desperation, she fixes her eyes on the receiver, takes a slight gulp and trills out a weak little "riiiiingggggg."

The moment is hilarious. Galbraith hits her beat with just the right amount of annoyance and embarrassment. If she'd overplayed the delivery, it would have seemed too broad. If she'd underplayed it, the laugh wouldn't even have registered. As it stands, it's a moment of comic perfection.

Though it's a standout moment for Galbraith, the fun thing about this production is that most of the rest of the show isn't dominated by one actor or another. Ensemble is the name of the game in "Noises Off," and director Eric Day (mostly) keeps the momentum smooth and the tone crisp.

Breaking news this afternoon on the Story That Won't Go Away. I'm sure that cable news is already salivating over the prospects of an extended trial.

Talk about a bizarre local story: The Bee's Lew Griswold dug up a doozy with his account in Sunday's paper of a Farmersville-raised 28-year-old on a mission trip to Guyana who got busted for having a bullet in his backpack. Turns out that the bullet belonged to his father, a California Highway Patrol officer, who had previously borrowed the pack for a target-shooting trip. Lew writes:

The misadventure began July 31 when Derrick Bravo boarded a plane in San Francisco, landed in Trinidad to change planes and had his carry-on backpack X-rayed. A security officer reached into a mesh pocket and pulled out a bullet.

After he got tossed in jail, Bravo befriended his fellow prisoners -- who included a murderer, a rapist, a kidnapper and a peasant farmer caught with marijuana -- and ended up singing "Our Father" with them. They called him "Yankee" and "bullet man." After three days in jail, a judge let him off with a warning.

Here's my favorite part of the story:

Once out of jail, the Trinidad airport authority officers befriended Bravo, ferried him around and found him an inn for the night.

Talk about a winning personality. A couple of questions: I wonder how ticked off Bravo was at his dad when he got home? And why the heck didn't the San Francisco security screeners find the bullet in the first place?