I can’t see the audience, but I can hear them laughing. I’m saying stuff and they’re actually LAUGHING. How is this happening? Maybe if I’d written it I’d scribble it out. I’m not in the audience’s position. I’m not looking at me saying shit. I have no idea how this looks. I’d made a pledge to be myself to say what I feel. Don’t try to be funny. Just commit and act like a normal person would. I can’t see my wife and boys, I know they’re there and I know they’re enjoying it. I keep going. Encouraged, I do things that feel right. I make good moves. They keep laughing. It’s intoxicating. I’m getting the biggest hit of dopamine. Where have you been?

Two hours before the show at Nottingham Playhouse’s Neville Studio, I had the feeling I was out of my depth. I watched the others in my class and it felt like they were leaving me behind. They were so good. I was proud of them, but I couldn’t help thinking I wasn’t good enough. Maybe the show will be better without me? I tried too hard in rehearsal and missed things I should have done. I picked it up later and relaxed. The anxiety dropped and I started getting excited. The team I was put in felt right. We’d be fine. I could do my own bit without worrying about what they were doing or going to do.

A pep talk from Naomi. You’re funny and you’re really good. I believe in you. This felt massive. Just do your thing. We went second. The first team opened the show, which must have been hard. They grew into it and finished strongly. Then it was our turn. The audience suggestions included a pub, a sauna and a super villain’s lair. Dean suggested melding the lair with the sauna. Genius. We created the room and I made an icy bucket shower just outside the sauna. It made sense to me. Just making it got a laugh. Well, I gotta use that now, haven’t I?

I settled myself into the sauna. Cat, my scene partner becomes some masculine brute who wants to have it off with my wife. She decides I’m ‘Jim’ and I reply, ‘Super Jim, you mean?’ A guy in the audience says out loud, ‘ha, Super Jim’. I’m buoyed by that. I give Cat a name. Darren. An evil super villain called Darren. He wants my wife and I’m reacting, not with words, but with concerned expressions, and we’re getting laughs. Big laughs. Will Hines said the audience should be able to smell the bravery, and I think that’s what is going on. We’re confident and the audience is with us.

The next scene starts. Charlie is outside the sauna, at the water cooler. Yes, even super villains install water coolers in their lairs. He says something about the side of his face feeling hot and I get up and shut the sauna door. ‘Thanks, Super Jim,’ he says, and I acknowledge it. He then establishes his masterplan for world domination. He’ll make all water cooler conversations boring across the world. I know what to do. I leave the sauna, get a drink and say something really dull. ‘See, it’s working already,’ says Charlie. Mental fist bump.

 I can’t remember the moment I decide to use the ice bucket shower, but I do. I react with ‘ahhh shit!’ and there’s more laughs. It’s like someone has taken over. I overthink so many things in my life. I plan so much of what I’m going to say and do, and here, in front of 40 people, I’m just doing it without thinking. No internal judgement. No voice saying, ‘stop, you look stupid and they’ll hate you’. I’m living in the moment. It’s liberating.

It ends. Applause. Bows. I can’t stop grinning as we return to our seats. Did that just happen? The love of my family. The pride. I pulled it off. I was brave and committed. I had fun.

This whole experience, including the classes, has changed my life. Seriously.