26/11/2014 08:16 GMT | Updated 26/01/2015 05:59 GMT

How or When?

Two things have been on my mind in the last few weeks. Britain's Got Talent and death.

In 2013, ITV somehow got hold of my number and kept ringing to ask me to audition for the 2014 Britain's Got Talent. I told them there was more chance of Simon Cowell settling down than me taking part. Fast forward 12 months and the unthinkable happened! Simon Cowell had settled down. And I was asked again to take part in 2015 Britain's Got Talent again, and I said yes. This time though, I was put forward through a comedy agency. I had a long think about something that could pretentiously change my life, but as I was put forward for a special stand-up comedy showcase in a theatre for the ITV producers, I could only see it as a good thing - it was just another gig to get my name out there.

I went along; with a hangover from hell may I add, not treating it as an audition at all. Until I was taken to a green room where there sat a room full of comedians I'd never met before, all treating it like an audition! I almost cringed when I heard one of them say he "felt like he was auditioning for stage school again". Jeez..

I wondered if I could quietly leave and hope no one would notice. But as I sat there for that brief moment I began to think about the other thing that's been playing on my mind. Death. I had recently read that 35% of people are terrified of WHEN they are going to die, whereas the 65% are terrified of HOW they are doing to die. I just didn't want to die. Full stop. On stage or anywhere else for that matter. But there is the inevitable. This is what scares me. The lack of control, the fact that there is nothing I can do about it happening. The horrid dark knowledge that this world will just carry on - without me!

HOW I will go isn't a huge worry, purely because I've convinced myself it will either be a slow death in a bed where I can tell all my loved ones not to forget about me for at least fifty years. Or I will be murdered by a hit man for rubbing someone up the wrong way. And WHEN doesn't bother me too much either, as I've told myself enough times I'll die way after I become famous, either by going out with a big bang or being murdered by a famous gangster for rubbing someone up the wrong way.

With a quick pull out of my thoughts, I was on stage doing a cracking gig in front of an audience of normal people and hidden producers with my hangover that had disappeared for those few minutes.

From the response that I got, I knew that I hadn't died that die.

I find out next month if I'm through to the next round. If I do get through, then I'll be doing some more thinking about what I'll do, and if I don't, then I may just die regretting it one day.