Snap Chat: Michael Hurst on farting onstage and meeting Captain Kirk half-naked

My first paying job was ... at The Court Theatre, Christchurch, in 1976. I was in a troupe of five players and we performed for high schools in a collection of comedy highlights ranging from Shakespeare to Monty Python. It was called Comedy Tonight.

It taught me ... never to talk down to young people.

My big break came ... Well, in a sense, that was my big break because I was being paid for the job of acting and I have never done anything else. But landing the role of Iolaus in Hercules, The Legendary Journeys in 1993 was a life-changer. It led to directing for film and television, lots of acting opportunities, great and lasting friendships and financial security.

The last job I quit was... I have never actually quit a job, but the one I couldn't wait to get away from was a New Zealand reality TV show called Showstoppers, a precursor to all of those TV talent shows that have since taken off. I was the Simon Cowell judge. I didn't mind this, but when the producers began to interfere with my decisions about who should remain in "boot camp" and who should be let go, I realised that this was not reality at all, but a cynical manipulation of vulnerable people. It was the off-stage personality clashes that were important and not so much the actual talent. I should have known going into it, but I was naive. The final episode, a TV variety special performed by the artists that had made it through, had virtually nothing to do with me. I was so angry that when it came to doing the post-match "How do you think it went?" interview, I couldn't speak. I just walked out of the studio with a bitter taste in my mouth, went home and swore never to do anything like this again. Happily, the show sank without a trace.

The most famous person I've ever met is... I was at a Xena fan convention making a live appearance as Widow Twankey, a pantomime dame character who, believe it or not, made several appearances in Hercules. William Shatner was there making a documentary and had heard about me and wanted an interview before I went on. I told his people that he needed to wait until I was fully dressed, but he wasn't having any of that and so bowled in to find me, completely discombobulated, in corset and bra, no wig and half a make-up. I wanted to run away, but there was nothing else for it, so I stood up in all my tawdry, half-naked splendour and said, "Hello Mr Shatner, I'm a big fan." It was truly strange. I mean, this was Captain Kirk!

He was... fantastic. He grinned at me and said, "Wow! I bet you never thought this would happen." "Not in my wildest dreams," I managed to say. And then we stood there for one surreal moment, just looking at each other. After a minute he told me I was beautiful (what a gentleman) and began the interview. Turns out he knew quite a lot about the pantomime traditions, which was great, and then we got on to Shakespeare and began a long conversation about tragedy and blank verse. Anyone watching must have wondered what the hell was going on.

The best time I've had on set/stage was ... There are so many, but a play that stands out is The Goat by Edward Albee, an utterly brilliant script that we presented in 2005 at Silo Theatre, now Basement Theatre. Every performance was inspiring for us. My wife, Jennifer, and I were playing the married leads and there is a moment in the play where her character, destroyed by the unfolding reality of her husband's betrayal, is given the fantastic stage direction "she howls three times", and Jennifer, being a great actress really did howl, from the core of her being. Now Basement is a tiny venue. The audience was basically sitting in a living room with us, and one night, after Jennifer's second, harrowing cry, a woman in the front row reached out and gently put a comforting hand on her shoulder. It was a truly transcendent moment. No one reacted or thought it strange. It was a perfect marriage of theatre and reality and we just carried on, audience and actors completely united in the same flow. Very powerful. I get goosebumps just thinking about it.

But the worst was... when I was playing a strange, silent butler character in a play by Peter Hawes called Armageddon Revisited in 1982 at the Mercury Theatre studio space, The Gods. Again, the audience was very close. I never left the stage and my job was to observe the action throughout (it was 90 minutes long) and then make one speech at the end that wrapped everything up. As I stood there one night, I suddenly felt that awful, sinking nausea that precedes vomiting. During the performance I began to sway, I started to sweat, and at one point I couldn't help but emit a long, slow fart, much to the astonishment of the cast. Something was clearly wrong but, being a good little actor, I stayed there. Then, when it finally came time for my speech, I stepped forward and, realising that I was now about to throw up, said: "I'm sorry sir, I'm leaving." I walked out and began to vomit copiously behind the curtain. The audience could hear the splatter as it hit the floor. For a moment they thought it was part of the show until the dreadful smell began to permeate the venue. It was a nightmare.

My dream role would be... Simple. King Lear.

• Michael Hurst performs No Holds Bard, a view into one actor's attempt at self-destruction at Q Theatre, February 25–29 as part of Auckland Fringe.