I like to think I've built up quite an admirable resistance to embarrassment over the years. I used to be the shy, retiring type as a young child until I decided one day that I was born for the stage. It was as if Andrew Lloyd Webber himself visited me in a queer, eccentric dream (we all have 'em) and preached the merits of theatre and I awoke from my humble mattress the following day a young, aspiring actress. Either that or I had literally zero academic talent and Drama was a handy cop out at the time.
Regardless, the want to be doing something creative has kept me going ever since. Since I pranced my way through Drama School I've come face to face with a whole host of weird and wonderful (and some not so wonderful) jobs. I've taught English and Drama in Italy with absolutely no knowledge of the Italian language but a huge love of garlic and carbs, I've given the whole 'extras' thing a go and trust me it is JUST like the Ricky Gervais series and I also had a stint of voicing a cockney monkey at Chessington World of Adventures theme park. Yes, my CV is about as colourful as the get up old Andy Webber had on in my dream all those many moons ago.
So as I said my cringing threshold is broad. But I don't think I've ever been as embarrassed as I was last week attending an audition for a pantomime where I had to sing a song I'd literally learnt that morning. When it comes to auditions I don't like to over egg the proverbial pudding. I never like to rehearse something too much because there's definitely more beauty in something a bit raw and natural. Well I'm afraid to say there was no beauty in my theatrical rendition of a song from the Dr Seuss musical. And I'm sure the company who saw me that day would agree. As the opening notes from the song played on the old school Sony speaker my heart dropped. What the fucking hell is the first line? Don't panic, it will come when the line is due. Shit. It never came. Nor did the second, the third or the fourth. If all else fails, just really go for the chorus, I thought as I stood there like some sort of cretin. I fully went for it though. I looked like the little girl in the school play who wanted to steal the show and didn't care who she trampled on to get there. It was awful. My cringe threshold was completely met and I apologised and took a seat.
At least a lesson got learnt. Sometimes organised and prepared trumps raw and organic ten fold. As I left the audition room head hanging low and cheeks a gorgeous shade of rouge I thought to myself; this is the last time I put myself through such an embarrassing and unthinkable ordeal. Trouble is, I know it probably won't be.