Showbiz isn’t in my jeans

Yesterday, I told a porky pie.

I may have mentioned that I secretly wanted to be a TV star, which is as far from the truth as me being 21… which isn’t exactly that far from the truth in the grand scheme of things, but it’s still bordering on the impossible. Ahem. Besides, I’ve appeared on TV on numerous occasions in the past anyway, so if I were the have fifteen minutes of fame, I think I’ve had it three times already anyway.

I’ve been the dismissible audience member on four or five different occasions, and appeared on TV for several consecutive years as one of those telephone operators who answer the telephone pledges on screen during certain BBC Telethons.

I never had a speaking role, which, in my mind is a good thing. During the Telethon era, fame had definitely gone to my head, and I tried another way to showcase my exquisite vocal talents.

One time, I entered a talent competition with a friend, singing ‘You’re the one that I want’ out of Grease.

We’d practiced for weeks, into the early hours most nights, singing into a yellow plastic spoon. We’d got the harmonies spot on. The timing perfect. Our tones of voice gelled perfectly together. We even recorded ourselves once, played it back and couldn’t tell the difference from the real thing. We were spot on. Top of the charts material.

The night of the talent competition came.

Usually, these were quiet, unassuming affairs, with a crowd of regulars that filled only the corner of the bar where the event took place.

Our night, news had leaked. The bar was packed – standing room only. My friend and I got there late for some reason, and we couldn’t believe how full the room was. The venue had to call in extra staff, demand was so great.

It was our turn next.

With legs like jelly, I walked up to the stage. The ‘band’ were behind us. I say band, it was a guitarist, a drummer, and someone on maracas, I think. And none of them knew ‘You’re the one that I want’.

We tried our best, but with the musicians woefully trying to keep up, and us without our yellow spoon, we didn’t sound so good. I had to leave the stage halfway through. We would have made a good comedy act, if that was what we were there to do.

I found a chair in the corner and downed a port and lemon. Another friend wanted someone to sing ‘Hello’ by Lionel Ritchie with them, and with my new found confidence I volunteered.

Up on the stage again, I realised I didn’t know the words.

Unfortunately, the band knew this tune, and started to play, rather professional sounding. My friend started with “I’ve been alone with you inside my mind”… at the exact same time I came in with “Hello”. Shocked, I clamped my mouth shut (after memoing that I didn’t know the words) and stood there and swayed to the music.

I had to leave the stage again when someone at the back of the room heckled “What does the dummy do?”!

I suppose I was lucky, though. It was a good crowd, in so much as they didn’t boo or throw things at me. That would have made the situation awful.

No. Showbiz isn’t in my genes…