When I first started working in the chemical factory I felt a bit of an outsider to the other apprentices as they were all from the Falkirk region. I think I may have led a more sheltered upbringing in ‘the Ferry’, as they seemed a bit more worldly wise than I. Mainly due to the fact that they seemed quite well versed with alcohol, whereas I had never been drunk in my life.

That was soon to change as there was a nightclub in Falkirk called The Maniqui, and on Thursday nights they didn’t look too closely at the acne on their clientele’s faces. It was a den for the youth to get familiar with the effects of the demon drink.

It was on my first visit there that I met my first girlfriend and as I said before she was just fifteen at the time. For our first date I took her to see the Michael Jackson movie, Moonwalker, which has to be up there for the one of the worst movies of all time. Thankfully it meant when I tried to slip the finger she was all for it, to relieve the boredom if nothing else.

I then spent one of the coldest nights of my life sleeping in a car that someone had left for me to use for that purpose while they were on nightshift. At least I had could smell the finger occasionally to remind me it was worth it.

Every Thursday while I was still living at my mother’s, I would get the bus through from Queensferry and meet my new workmates in a bar which served cocktails to underagers called Slick Chicks.

We would try three or four different cocktails and be well blotto by the time it came to hit the Maniqui, often being sick on the way from Slick Chicks.

You would think that would be a sign to not do it again but no, it was all part of the experience of becoming a well rounded Scottish adult …. apparently.

Socialising with the lads certainly helped us bond and we were all thankful we got on so well but there was one night out in particular that helped me stick out a bit from the rest.

We’d heard that the TV Show, ‘The Hit Man and Her’, was coming to the Holyrood Boulevard nightclub in Dunfermline and so a few of us decided that we would wear our tartan work issued shirts together with a silly tie and try to get on the ‘Pass The Mic’ section of the show.

The show consisted of Pete Waterman, of Stock, Aitken and Waterman fame, who produced hits for the likes of Kylie Minogue and Jason Donovan, hence the ‘Hit Man’ part of the title and a lovely bit of totty called Michaela Strachan, who most of Britain’s hot blooded males wanted to poke repeatedly, as the ‘Her’.

Early on in the evening they had an audition to find the contestants for ‘Pass the Mic’, and so I managed to get to the front of the stage and clamber up as did a couple of my mates. I was one of the first to audition and as soon as they heard me, that was it. I was given a contestant sticker. Delighted I was. Mission accomplished, at least one of us had managed to achieve the task.

During the audition they look for someone who can sing, someone good looking and someone to make a total tit of themselves. No prizes for guessing, which one I was. That’s right, the good looking one ……. I wish.

About an hour later when everyone had a few more drinks in them it came time for Michaela to say, ‘5,4,3,2,1’ and the audience to shout ‘Pass the Mic’.

Michaela asked me my name and I shouted, “I’m Billy and I’m from Queensferry, yeeeeeeeaaaaaaaahhhhh!”. She replied, “What?”

Then Pete says, “I think we’ll do a classic tonight, here’s Rod Stewart and Sailin”. The good looking bird starts tentatively singing and I thought, ‘Hah, she’s no competition, you can hardly hear her’. Pete said the same and she amped it up a bit but still not enough to be a threat for the crown.

Then Michaela says the ‘5,4,3,2,1’ bit with a nervous laugh and after I hit my first ‘note’ she says, “Oh God”. Then I really kicked into gear. The subtitles on the TV called me Popeye Pete. Hilarious.

As I was whipping up a storm, Pete says, while pointing to his heart, “Get’s you right there don’t it, get’s you right there”.

I thought I had pretty much nailed it and the last contestant, the so called singer, would have to go some to beat my effort.

Well, let’s just say he didn’t. He was singing along pretty shit and then he stopped to pull out a white wig and lay it on top of his Afro as he mumbled along to the middle section of the song.

Ha. Fucking no way was he going to win with that effort. For me, it wasn’t just the taking part, I was in it to win it! To prove that rock’n’roll singing is all about feeling and passion and not necessarily hitting the right notes.

In the video recording I made of the show, you can see me clearly say ‘I won’ and if you ever see it I’m sure you’d say the same so I was pretty shocked and hammed up my shockness all the way, when number three, the wig boy won.

Next thing you know I have his wig on and I’m giving it laldy for the rest of the song in front of my adoring fans.

Some people say Pete Waterman is a great spotter of talent but let’s just say I’m a fish that got through his net.

Two weeks later the show was broadcast on a Saturday night and I watched it with my girlfriend in her parents living room that I ended up spewing in a month or so later. She was well impressed.

When I walked into the apprentice mess room on the Monday morning after it aired, the whole place erupted with applause and all of a sudden I had arrived…..big time!