At the theatre, I am always the one watching the show thinking 'I wish that was me up there,' but I never had the bottle to give it a go.
And then along comes an invitation to be in the outrageously silly, feel good smash, Spamalot.
It's not every day you are asked to be in Eric Idle's highly amusing masterpiece, and after much worrying, I thought I'd take the opportunity.
Besides, the fee was handsome,* and my boyfriend often calls me a drama queen, bless him.
This is the show that has got it all, so long as it is barmy or brilliant; plague carts, fish slapping fins, killer rabbits and a bevy of beautiful showgirls.
It also stars Joe Pasquale and his son, Joe Tracini.
As if things weren't already nail-biting enough.
But last night (Tuesday), I donned the cloth and gave it my all as the Hay Baler.
I'm with 'partner in cameo' Steve Mills (he is playing Sir Not Appearing) and company manager Phil Sykes meets us at stage door,whisking us straight to wardrobe master Iwan Harries, and deputy Nia Evans who are waiting to get us kitted up.
It's the first time in the show's history that two people have had guess spots during the same performance.
So we are moving the goal posts already!
Mine is a simple job; pull the cloth over one's head, and boom. All done.
Steve needs armour, which is altogether more involved, but with a nudge here, a tuck there and a hat to top it all off, he is a splendid Sir Not Appearing, moustache and all.
We are led to the stage, where the company are mid-way through their daily work-out-meets-warm-up.
My directive is to hold a hay bale, and walk onto the stage where the cast are performing a Russian Cossack dance, while shouting Hey! Hey Hey!
As the end of the dance, they shout 'Hay', point to me and I slide off stage again.
It is a small, but perfectly formed role, and 'gets a guaranteed laugh' Phil assures me.
I might be on stage for mere seconds, but I want to get it right, and to do that, need a bit of a sour face.
The role demands it. Those who know me will tell you it's a relatively simple look for me to pull off.
The practice run follows, and there's a round of applause, while Joe Tracini lets out quite the giggle.
Just the one practice is required. Phew.
A cast member declares I am 'the best couldn't give a sh*t face!' he has seen.
Which I am pretty sure is high praise...
Joe Tracini tells Steve and I that we are his favourites so far, "I'm not just saying that, either," he says, giving us the thumbs up.
"Really, it was great."
But the next time we do it, will be to an auditorium of 1400 people. Ooh, eck.
Watching the show in the wings, being privy to the hustle and bustle, the costume and scenery changes and the impeccable timings that go into giving you an entertaining night out brings a whole new tier to the admiration I have for the cast and backstage crew.
And it all feels so friendly: "It's the sort of show that even if you come to work feeling miserable, you'll go home again happy," Phil says, and it's easy to see why.
A really nice aura surrounds this company...save for that pesky killer rabbit, of course.
The time flies, and all too soon, Steve stage steps, delivers his line, "Sorry!" and disappears from audience view.
He came, he played, and without so much as a chink in his armour.
It's my turn next, and as the bale of hay is handed to me, I remember the phrase 'break a leg' is for good luck only.
I don't actually have to 'do' a Dave Grohl and mash my leg up.
But there is little time to daydream, and within seconds I have been bathed in light, found my on stage marker, delivered my best disinterested look and returned to the safety of the wings, while behind me the audience laughter is ringing.
The nervous wobbles had waned and I am thrilled to be able to say that I didn't bail out, instead I took the bale out!
*That part about the fee is completely made up.
But of course paid roles will follow, right?
Pics: Al Hunter
Spamalot continues at MK Theatre until Saturday, June 20.
To make a booking, call 0844 871 7652.
