10/03/2015 11:41 GMT | Updated 09/05/2015 10:59 BST

As a receptionist by day and a comedian by night, it's always good to get a story from the office that people can relate to. I'm currently in the middle of writing my second solo hour show and I've been putting together some of my most memorable day jobs over the last couple of years.

With all my roles, I had been given the title "receptionist" yet ending up doing many other different things during my 8 hours at work (no rude thoughts please).

The role that sticks out the most in my colourful brain is the time I was told I would be signing people in at a doctors waiting room. But ending up sorting out a bag of prosthetic limbs and wiping the nose of a snivelling child. As a receptionist, I'm used to the large sack of post that gets dragged in daily by the over perky (that IS meant to say perky not pervy) Royal mail man. On this particular rainy morning, my first day on the job along the Peckham road, miles from civilization and a 35 min bus journey to a MacDonald's, I was given a huge mail sack within the first hour sat behind the reception desk. As I put my arm in the sack, ready to pull out a handful of letters, I pulled out a leg. A very small leg may I add. And amongst the clear packaging, there were also arms and feet. It was at that point I prepared myself to find a head in there. Happy to report back that no head was found.

The morning felt like a year and as I sat in the 2 by 2 foot staff room at lunch with nothing but a weak cup of tea from the machine I was hoping the next two weeks weren't going to be hell. I could make my own lunch to bring in, get used to the arms and legs in the post and just try and enjoy the experience.

It was still raining out and with my stiff body from being folded up inside the tiny staff room, I sat back down at reception ready to sign some people in when it happened, "Please can you watch my child while I go in to my appointment?" My heart stopped. My mouth dried up and so did my vagina walls. Please try and imagine a shoe loving, glossy nailed gal with an allergy to children suddenly being given a snotty nosed grizzling 2 foot stranger to look after. I was in hell. I didn't even know what to do with it! (Sorry, I'm not sure what gender it was)

Ok, so maybe I should have known something like this was going to happen, after all I was told I was going to be working for the NHS for two weeks. But give me some credit; I should have been warned it would not be a room with the usual coughing old man in the corner and a few people coming to pick up their prescriptions.

I'm almost ashamed to say I failed the assignment and didn't turn up the next day. Just the million mile journey in the rain was enough. But dishing out limbs and looking after whining kids? Not my bag.