Thank you for the music

Kelly couldn' t sing, so why was she suddenly in the spotlight?

Don' t be silly, Jen,' I said, as the queue trudged forwards about two centimetres, and my best mate sighed wearily for maybe the 50th time. Of course you' re going make it.'

Jen has always loved to sing. Back when we were in primary school I' d go to her place and lie on her bed, thumbing through the latest magazines full of love stories and photos of boy bands.

Jen, on the other hand, would be singing Dancing Queen into her hairbrush in front of her dressing table mirror. Or practising a dance routine. Or writing lyrics in her notebook.

Because Jen was going to be a star. It was her destiny.

Kelly,' she said, her eyes showing signs of defeat that I had never seen before. There are two problems. First, this is the eighth time I' ve auditioned for Star Factor and I' ve still never got beyond the first round. Second, if you include all the other times we' ve spent weekends queueing for some audition I failed to get through, it probably runs into the thousands. And third, I' m desperate to go to the toilet.'

The queue shuffled forwards another two centimetres. Then I turned to Jen and took her hands in mine.

First,' I said, that' s not two things, it' s three. And second, you can' t go to the toilet now. Look.'

I nodded to the queue which had been snaking ahead of us into Norbury Heath Leisure Centre for the last three hours. Now only 10 or so people separated us from the entrance.

Come on, Kelly,' Jen moaned. You know how these things work. Once we get through those doors there' ll be another queue, then another queue, then another one. If I ever get to sing for anyone they' ll have chosen all the acts they need anyway.'

I gripped my friend' s arm. No,' I told her firmly. You can' t give up now. Just wait until we get inside, then we' ll see if there' s time for you to go to the toilet.'

It took another 20 minutes before we were inside the leisure centre. By the time we were, Jen was doing the so-desperate-I'm-going-to-wet-myself dance-.

I can' t hold it any longer,' she said through gritted teeth. I' ll only be gone a minute.'

I shook my head. Not now. Have you seen who' s over there?'

Normally these auditions follow a familiar pattern several hours queueing with all the other hopefuls in a bleak car park somewhere. Then you get into the venue

a leisure centre, or community hall, or some dull grey budget hotel beside a motorway only to discover the queue is even worse inside.

But now I could see it wasn' t. Dermot McClennon, Star Factor' s host, was grinning broadly, entertaining the couple of dozen wannabe stars in the

queue in front of us before ushering them through a doorway, no doubt to audition for the show' s judges.

`Another 20 minutes and you' ll be in there singing ABBA,' I said.

`Another 20 minutes and

I' ll be in there wetting myself,' Jen replied.

Maybe I should have let her go to the toilet. Looking back now, it was me who thought she should wait, in order to not risk missing the chance to perform for the judges and finally win a place on Saturday-night TV.

But I did make her wait. Until she couldn' t wait any longer.

Hold this,' she said, thrusting her backing CD at me. Gotta go.'

But there' s only one person in front of us!'

Too late. Jen was gone.

A few seconds later, Dermot McClennon came over. He spoke to the man in front of us. Well, in front of just me now. With huge, bushy sideburns, greasedback hair and a white suit adorned with gleaming rhinestones, I guessed the man was an Elvis impersonator.

I suddenly found myself hoping he was good. Very good. So good the judges

singnd would want to hear him as many songs as it took until Jen came back.

But that wasn' t how it happened. What happened was Dermot McClennon appearing a few moments later, me getting so tonguetied I couldn' t explain how this was all a terrible mistake and my friend would be back in a few seconds and¼ and¼

Thank You For The

Music,' I said, when the judges asked me what I was going to sing.

The music started, a tinkly piano and some high strings. Then the words I' d heard

Jen sing at least 100 times before began to come out of my mouth, all about how I was nothing special and in fact I was a bit of a bore.

The song lasts just under four minutes, and in that time I don' t quite know what happened. My body kind of soared, raised itself up and out of itself, my voice super-powered by the sheer, soaring exuberance in the lyrics.

Maybe I wasn' t anything special. Maybe everyone has heard all my jokes. But in the time it took to sing that classic pop song about one woman' s only talent, I didn' t believe I was nothing special

I suddenly felt very special indeed.

The music ended, the final piano chord seeming to take an eternity to fade. When silence finally fell I realised my eyes were closed and my head was lowered as if I was praying. Slowly, I opened my eyes and raised my head.

None of the judges said anything at first. And the funny thing was it didn' t matter. I' d just discovered I was very good at something which up until now I had only watched someone else do. I didn' t need the approval of anyone.

Eventually, Vicky B, ex-girl band member and now head judge on Star Factor spoke up.

That¼ was¼ incredible!' How busy are you for the next few months?' the record producer Stuart Martin chimed in with a broad smile. Because you' ll be spending a lot of time in television studios.'

I left the audition room in a daze. Then I saw Jen.

Her eyes travelled from mine, down to the backing CD I was holding, then back to mine again. Her face creased in a puzzled frown.

Kelly?' she said, still frowning. What happened to my audition?'

Six months later I won the final of Star Factor. But I couldn' t have done it without my best friend.

Of course you couldn' t,' Jen said with a smile as I stepped off the stage. She was now my agent, a job she had discovered was her true vocation, just as I' d discovered singing was mine. After all those years listening to me, I' m the one you' ve got to thank for the music.'