One Chance

One Chance

One Chance

A Memoir

PAUL POTTS

W
EINSTEIN
B
OOKS

Copyright © 2013 by Paul Potts

Unless otherwise indicated, all images are the property of the author.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the Publisher. For information address Weinstein Books, 250 West 57th Street, 15th Floor, New York, NY 10107.

Cataloging-in-Publication data for this book is available from the Library of Congress.

ISBN: 978-1-60286-229-6 (e-book)

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.

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thon Production Services.

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Book design by Ellen E Rosenblatt/SD Designs, LLC.

Set in 11.5 point Bauer Bodoni

First edition

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I'd like to dedicate this book to Julz,
my long-suffering wife, without whom I'd be lost
.

CONTENTS

FOREWORD: By Simon Cowell

PROLOGUE: What a Difference a Day Makes

PART ONE: Beginnings

      
CHAPTER ONE: Childhood

      
CHAPTER TWO: School

      
CHAPTER THREE: Singing

      
CHAPTER FOUR: Secondary School Life

      
CHAPTER FIVE: Singing through the Pain

PART TWO: Struggles

      
CHAPTER SIX: Off to University

      
CHAPTER SEVEN: Unexpected Opportunities

      
CHAPTER EIGHT: Singing Abroad

      
CHAPTER NINE: Looking for Love

      
CHAPTER TEN: An Opera and an Op

      
CHAPTER ELEVEN: In Sickness and in Health

PART THREE: Success

      
CHAPTER TWELVE: Britain's Got Talent

      
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: On Record

      
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: On the Road

      
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: On Reflection

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

FOREWORD

By Simon Cowell

I
HAVE SAT THROUGH
a lot of auditions through the last decade, some good and a lot not so good! But there are a few auditions I will always remember for special reasons, and one of those is Paul Potts's.

It was the first season on
Britain's Got Talent
, back in 2007. The auditions weren't going great and I was genuinely worried whether we were going to find a star. We arrived in Cardiff and the day was not going very well but I remember a shy man in a funny suit walking onto the stage. I looked over to Piers, Piers rolled his eyes as Paul quietly told us he was an opera singer, then I rolled my eyes! Then he started to sing. I will never forget that moment—the atmosphere in the theatre changed in an instant, he literally raised the roof, and I knew our show was safe.

Over time I got to know Paul as a person and I got to know his other qualities. Paul has real courage; he overcame the bullying of his childhood as well as the many other obstacles life
had thrown his way. Paul also has such dedication; he is someone who was always going to work hard to achieve his dream of a singing career.

Paul's road to success reads like a film script, and now it has been turned into a movie. This couldn't happen to a nicer guy; he is genuinely one of the warmest, friendliest guys I have had the pleasure of working with. I am delighted and proud that we were able to give him that original chance, but everything else has been down to him.

PROLOGUE

What a Difference a Day Makes

I
WILL NEVER FORGET
that fateful day. That dull, wet Saturday morning on St. Patrick's Day in 2007 when I arrived at the Millennium Centre in Cardiff to audition for
Britain's Got Talent
.

My father was panicking that my wife, Julz, and I would be late. The audition was the same day as a Wales-England rugby match, and having set off from our home in Port Talbot, we hit the traffic just outside Llantrisant, about fourteen miles from Cardiff. My phone began vibrating in my pocket. I looked at the screen, and it was Dad, who was already at the venue.

“The people are already going in!” he said, with an audible scowl.

“Stop worrying,” I said. “They're probably contestants from an earlier round of auditions.”

But however much I tried to reassure him, I couldn't calm his nerves. He kept on calling me as we made our way up the M4.

I had been strangely subdued on the drive up, but once I
reached the concert hall, all that changed. We still had some time to wait before I was sent to the holding area, and having no clue what time I would be going on, I was beginning to get quite nervous. I picked up my number from the check-in area—31829, which I stuck sideways on my jacket—and made my way up the stairs to the auditorium. The holding area was a bar behind the upper circle, and it was a very busy room, with hundreds of people scrambling round for seats and plenty of film crews to capture every moment of rehearsal on tape. Through the walls we could hear the proceedings of the previous group: the noise of the audience rippled through, as did the sound of the dreaded buzzer. That silenced the crowd in the holding room immediately. It was something none of us wanted to hear when it was our turn to be on stage.

I'd read advice online from previous contestants, who suggested you should make as much noise as possible, dress wildly, and practise hard to make sure you ended up on film. In fact, to do just about anything to stand out from the crowd. But that was the last thing I wanted to do. While others were rehearsing loudly to catch the attention of the cameras, I attempted to fade into the background like a wallflower.

I wasn't here to make a career out of what I was about to do. Instead, I was here to finish a journey that had started at the age of six. Singing was something I loved doing, but I could see no future in it.

“Hi there, can I ask what you're here to do?”

My thoughts were interrupted by a guy in a pale-blue fleece coat from the production team and his colleague holding a TV camera. It's strange that a previously coherent person can
become a jabbering wreck when facing a large piece of electronics placed on someone's shoulder. It took me some time to pluck up the courage to even say a very weak “hello.” It was right about then that I started to have second thoughts about being there.

I didn't really know what to say, and ended up blurting out the first thing that came into my head.

“I'm here to sing opera,” I told the guy. “It's something I feel I was born to do.”

“That's great,” the guy replied. “How about singing something for us here and now, a cappella?”

I responded with a very nervous look towards Julz, and a very fast shake of the head. “I don't want to do that,” I said.

I wanted to go back to being the wallflower. I felt I wasn't the kind of person who should be in front of people, in full view. I felt fat and slightly scruffy. The suit I was wearing was all I could afford, and for some reason I had insisted on buying one that was too small in the chest but at the same time too long in the arms. The last thing I wanted to do was draw further attention to the fact that I didn't really belong here. Reluctantly, the member of the production crew accepted my refusal to sing. He finished our quick chat and moved on to another person.

I tried and failed to find out when I would be on stage. This was disconcerting, as I always like to be well prepared so as to perform at my best. But now I was faced with no warm-up area, no sound check, and no timetable. I did my best to try to find somewhere private enough to warm up, and ended up in the gents' toilets. Even there, I didn't want to sing in front of anyone. The moment I heard footsteps approaching, I pushed the lever of the tap as if to wash my hands. There appeared to be no way of
warming up at all. After a while, I just gave up and returned to my seat next to Julz.

A different member of the production approached me, this time from ITV2, ITV's second channel. He was filming for the spin-off show to
Britain's Got Talent
:
Britain's Got More Talent
. This guy was very relaxed and funny, and asked me to go with him. I was a little reluctant, but Julz persuaded me.

“Go on, Paul,” she whispered. “Just for once do as you're told!”

Julz and I share a very healthy sense of humour, in spite of having gone through some pretty difficult times. So I followed her command and walked out with the crew. Initially they wanted me to sing in the corridor surrounded by lots of people. But when they noticed my reticence, they changed tack and suggested we go outside.

Luckily the rain had stopped and there weren't too many people around. With the wind blowing, I launched into the last full phrase of “Nessun Dorma,” the aria made famous by the great Luciano Pavarotti, and which was used as the theme for the 1990 World Cup:

Dilegua, o notte! Tramontate, stelle! Tramontate, stelle!

All'alba vincerò! Vincerò! Vince-e-erò!

I just about felt okay doing it. However, while I was filming outside with the
Britain's Got More Talent
crew, the three
Britain's Got Talent
judges—Simon Cowell, Amanda Holden, and Piers Morgan—were giving a briefing to all the other contestants about what was about to happen. Not only had I missed
that, but my name had been called as one of the first contestants to go on. I got upstairs with the crew and there was Dad again, panicking about the fact that my name had been called. There wasn't a moment to spare—it was time to go.

Backstage, I felt like Daniel about to be thrown into the lion's den. I hadn't warmed up properly, and now I was being unexpectedly thrust straight in, not knowing what was going to happen. What had started as a day out—and an opportunity to perform at Wales's latest, and arguably greatest, concert hall—was turning into the worst kind of nightmare.

I wasn't built for risks. I just didn't take them. I had never even bet on the Grand National or Derby, and now I was about to perform in front of two thousand people, including one of the people in the music business I respected most: Simon Cowell. I would have been nervous enough if I'd just come fresh from a run as principal tenor with a local company. But I was about to go on stage, having barely sung a note in public for nearly four years.