I had a telephone call the other day. No great surprise there then, in fact there are some days when I would be considerably better off if I got paid a fiver for every call I receive rather than the salary I receive.
It was a call I had been waiting for, in fact I had been eagerly anticipating it.
It was a call from a television production company.
And it was a call which could, ultimately, lead to me appearing on one of the popular quiz shows which make up so much of our televisual experience.
I knew what to expect and nothing really surprised me other than the fact that I actually slipped into being that person I hate. You know the one. The one with the “telephone voice”.
The phone call winged its way into my ears from Glasgow. Perhaps, stereo-typically, I had been expecting the person on the other end of the phone to sound like Nicola Sturgeon or Jimmy Krankie.
The truth, however, was somewhat different and I spent a pleasant 10 minutes chatting away to, and being quizzed by, someone with a rather up-market form of Estuary English as their chosen tongue.
The more I relaxed, the more I realised that I was reverting more to my native accent.
I don’t have the broadest of accents, but there is never any real doubt about where I come from the moment I start speaking.
I don’t drop my aitches very often, “the” is never pronounced “th” or even “t” and I never relate a conversation by turning into a gate – or any other part of a garden wall!
But I definitely come from East Lancashire and I never try to hide the fact.
So why did I let myself down during that 10 minute telephone call?
Was it the fear or not making it through to the audition stage?
Was it the fear that, somehow, if I make it on to the TV screens they will need sub-titles for people to understand me?
I don’t really know the answer, but I just wish I could have stopped myself from falling into the “telephone voice” trap.