‘This is Big Brother. Would Megan come to the diary room immediately?’
Fuuucccckk!
Somehow, after years and years of effort, hundreds of auditions, long train journeys to and from stage school and a lot of rejection along the way, huge sacrifices by my parents, my nan and granddad, never-ending support from my family, I’d finally made it and got myself into the Celebrity Big Brother house so I could finally make a name for myself.
This wasn’t just my big break, my chance to show the world how far I’d come. I had millions of people watching my every move. And I was officially losing my shit.
As well as having massive meltdowns, left, right and centre, including rows about tidying clothes away, cleaning up and… mashed potato, what else? I’d finally had enough of housemate John Partridge and his conniving little ways, so I was giving him an earful.
‘Fuck off, you little c*nt. He’s a little fucking shit. I swear down I’ll go sick on that c*nt. You are a nasty piece of shit.’
Plus, talking to one of the other girls…
‘Lick the fucking shit out of John’s arsehole, mate.’
Wow. Bet you thought, What a little tramp! So now here I was in the diary room, trying to explain myself, but that was all going a bit wrong too…
‘It is flipping me out cos he’s lied all night and he slates Tiffany, slates Tiffany to the ground, slates her. This fucking bullshit.’
Big Brother’s voice boomed out again at me, to the point where I whacked the camera, got restrained by security and removed from the main house.
And just like that, live on national television in front of millions of people, living the so-called dream, years of professional stage training behind me, what was I doing? I’d officially lost it.
So how had everything in my life come to this? Well, let me tell you…