I spent an entertaining Saturday night judging a talent contest run by our sister paper, The East Grinstead Observer.
I was part of a three-pronged judging panel comprising of myself, the town mayor and a talent agent - think Osbourne, Walsh and Cowell, minus the tight trousers.
Quite how qualified I was to judge this event is questionable. My singing ability is somewhat limited and I was once told to mime at a school carol concert because I wasn't exactly hitting the right notes.
Even scarier, I had to get up on stage at the end of this rather surreal evening and announce the winner along with the Mayor, who rather rained on my moment in the sun by muttering the first name of the chosen one before I even had the chance to make my big annoucement into the microphone.
Dazzled by the stage lights, I also made myself look a complete tool by performing a part catalogue/part lifeguard pose and shielding my eyes against the glare while announcing the victor.
A fun evening but one, I think, that provided a valuable lesson.
Showbusiness isn't for me.
