Let me preface this anecdote by stating unequivocally that I am *not* an actress, nor for that matter have I ever held any particularly strong aspirations toward becoming one. Learning lines is a tedious and torturous exercise comparable only to last minute panicked exam revision, while actually acting in front of an audience tends to offer all the enjoyment and thrill of a particularly intense and violent stress migraine. Plus the whole ‘acting’ thing requires a degree of actual skill and talent which, if I’m honest, seems to largely elude me. (This may all be simple false modesty. In one early school production I was reviewed as ‘adequately portrays the character…’ High praise indeed, I’m sure you’ll agree.)
However, University is nothing if not a time for experimentation and pushing one’s boundaries so, being the arty, creative and largely unbearable type, I signed up to various performing societies. The less that is said about my so-called ‘Dramatic’ performances the better, as I quickly realised my forte was very much crafting the words rather than delivering them.
My favourite of these groups was simultaneously the most ridiculous and amongst the most pretentiously middle class pursuits I’ve ever embarked upon – a sketch comedy collective.