Paul Potts: My story as told to Elisabeth Easther

Paul Potts is touring New Zealand in April. Photo / Supplied

When Paul Potts won the first series of Britain’s Got Talent in 2007, the talented tenor exchanged his job at Carphone Warehouse for a full-time singing career, with his life story depicted in One Chance, a movie starring James Corden. Potts soon tours New Zealand with 50 Golden Years of Musicals, with 10 shows nationwide, April 11-23.

I was a bit of a loner as a kid, with my own way of thinking and doing things. I also listened to music that other children didn’t listen to. Having been swept away by the soundtracks of movies like ET and Star Wars, I was introduced to orchestral and classical music at quite a young age, while most other kids were listening to rock.

My family wasn’t very well-off, so we qualified for school uniform assistance. This meant I wore a school uniform before they were compulsory. I did this partly because I figured that, if I wore a uniform, I’d have more clothes to wear outside of school, because whatever a student wore to school was considered their uniform. So if you were seen out in what you’d worn to school, you’d be teased, so I decided if I wore the subsidised uniform, I could save my casual clothes for outside school. But being the only student wearing a uniform, combined with my tastes in music, I was marked out as a target by bullies.

Hopeful of making other children feel something other than hate for me, I tried to deliberately - accidentally on purpose - trip over things, to self-harm. I thought if I was injured, people would feel sorry for me. Even though I knew sympathy would be temporary, it would’ve been better than people hating me. But I never succeeded in catching my foot the right way.

Being badly bullied for about 10 years left me with a strong sense of being irrelevant, which is why I abhor it when I hear people say that bullying is a rite of passage. That it’s something every child has to go through. Because it isn’t. Children can have disagreements, yes, but bullying is never okay because it is actually abuse. People might say “sticks and stones may break my bones but names can never hurt me” but that is absolute nonsense because words damage a person internally, which can in turn make you more vulnerable to other forms of abuse.

Bullying wore me down. Teachers told me to ignore it. They said it would go away. But it didn’t go away. I just got used to it, but being bullied over such a long period of time, I came to feel completely worthless, that I didn’t have the right to be treated any better. I certainly wouldn’t have been abused in other ways if I’d not suffered so much damage during those years.

When I gave up reporting my bullies, that made things worse, until eventually I felt I didn’t deserve to escape. Mum supported me better than dad, and sometimes she’d go see my teachers if she felt they weren’t dealing with things effectively, although one of the teachers just made things more difficult for me.

I found solace in books and music, but I certainly never saw singing as something I might do professionally. It was simply my escape. I’d go to the music room at lunchtime to avoid the playground. Being in the choir also meant I’d head home an hour after school ended, so the bullies were gone. But to actually study music, I’d have had to audition for bursaries, and I never imagined myself being able to sing in front of a panel, as it would feel like being examined.

One of the reasons I managed to audition for Britain’s Got Talent was because there was an audience. I was still hesitant because backstage at Britain’s Got Talent was horrible and I’d heard the audience baying for blood. So I flipped a coin to decide whether or not to do it. But when I sensed the audience was enjoying my singing, to feel that I could be appreciated, it was so satisfying. I finally felt properly alive, but singing for a panel without an audience would’ve been a very different feeling.

I coped with my sudden success because I had a great team. I also took each day as it came because, if I ever wondered what might happen next, I might’ve been overwhelmed. Instead, things just unfolded and I went along for the ride. Although a lot of critics said I lacked technique. That I wouldn’t be able to sing after a year, but 16 years on I’m still here, so I can’t be doing too much wrong.

Before Britain’s Got Talent, I met my wife Julz in a chatroom. I worked nights at Tesco, the supermarket, for about six years. By that stage, I’d not travelled far enough to know what jetlag was, but I now know that working nights is a bit like having jetlag, because it turns your days upside down. Sometimes, I’d even fall asleep at work while standing up, which almost always happened when a manager was right in front of me. Back then, I’d finish work at half six in the morning. I’d come home, have something to eat, spend some time on my computer chatting to people, then go to bed. I started chatting to Julz in January 2001. After a while we started talking on the phone, then we met at 8:10 on February 2, 2001. We spent the whole day together. I remember everything so clearly.

It didn’t take long for me to know Julz was “the one” but it took her a little longer. When I first bought her a ring she said: “This had better not be ‘the ring’.” Later, when we were in Italy, I bought her a little diamond necklace, and I teased her family by saying I’d bought Julz diamonds. Soon after I put a deposit down on an engagement ring and we’ll have been married for 20 years this May. Julz is very good at keeping my feet on the ground because we’ve never taken each other too seriously, and sometimes I give her a laugh because I’m so clumsy.

Paul Potts says his wife Julz helps him keep his feet on the ground.

I’ve fallen on my way on to stage so many times. I also make things up as I go along, so seeing me onstage is all very real and honest. There’s no façade. I am who I am. One of the things I find most satisfying about giving a concert is talking to the audience. I sometimes even apologise to them, and say if they’re after the smooth patter of Michael Bublé, they’ve come to the wrong gig.

I am fortunate to fly business class most of the time. But there was one flight when I was coming back from LA in the upper deck of a British Airways 747. I had a pair of first-class pyjamas from a previous trip, so I thought I’d change into them in the loo and, at the same time, take my tray to the galley. I was going that way anyway, and I know what I’m like. That if I didn’t take it back I’d knock it flying. So I took it down and handed it to the cabin crew, then I changed into my pyjamas and went to sleep. A few days later at Sony HQ in London, I was given some feedback from that flight. I was told the crew thought that, by bringing my tray to them, I was implying they weren’t doing their job properly. I was told I should’ve used the call bell, but I’d thought that would’ve disturbed more people, and I was just me being me.

At the moment, it was suggested that I not be me. But I knew if I started there, thinking about how I was being perceived, I’d have to spend the rest of my life second-guessing my every move, which would be far too challenging. Because pretending to be someone you’re not, that’s part of what’s driving so many of our mental health issues. Which is why I always say to people “be yourself”. You only have one self, and if you sell that, or let it go, you’ll have nothing left.

I’ve had people ask if I could give them singing lessons but I don’t understand how I make the sounds I do. I have lessons when I’m in London, but I don’t fully understand how the voice works, and maybe it’s better I don’t know the answer to the mystery of how singing works, because that’s part of the magic. I just know I’m really fortunate to do the thing I love for a job and I never want to retire. Singing isn’t just something I do, it’s who I am.

Paul Potts will perform as part of 50 Golden Years of Musicals. Visit: www.stetsongroup.com/50-golden-years/