Last night I had an awful dream where I’d been drafted in as singer of Eighties icons Dexy’s Midnight Runners.

Perhaps I should lay off the Red Leicester at night, but the prospect of singing Come on Eileen leaves me in a cold sweat. If you actually know ALL the lyrics to 1982’s best-selling single, you’re either Kevin Rowland or a liar.

It’s the only thing I can find more nerve-racking than my challenge next month for our Visitor’s Got Talent series, which last week began with Martin Williams putting his best foot forward as a line dancer.

My contribution was to strap myself into a glider and get fired a thousand feet into the air. You’ll be able to read all about my airborne antics in Friday’s Vale Advertiser, but what I can tell you now is a) I survived, and b) it’s actually jolly good fun.

Yet I’m more terrified by my next feature, where I’ll turn up at a Denbigh gig and show everyone that being in a band is not as easy as Noel Gallagher makes it look.

My sole contribution to rock ‘n’ roll was as frontman for a dreadful college band called Prikembody, and all that involved was hanging around in seedy Southport bars trying to look arty. I’m hardly qualified to take the mic with The Excuse, the brave band who’ll be joining me.

I was almost hoping I’d crash the glider and die, because that would have saved me the scarier scenario of having to show hundreds of gig-goers and thousands of Youtube viewers what a terrible musician I am.

In the office we know how much you love seeing us making complete prats of ourselves in the name of journalism, so if you have any of your own suggestions, please write in and let us know.

Apart from joining Dexy’s Midnight Runners, that is.

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