Quote

My voice went recently, never happened before, off like a tap. I had to sit in silence for nine days, chalkboard around my neck. Like an old-school mime. Like a kid in the naughty corner. Like a Victorian mute.

I never knew that I had an unusual voice. It wasn't something anybody really pointed out to me.

I found my voice was a reaction to all that voice stuff.

I've been doing silly voices since I was a child.

I've learnt to accept what has happened to my voice, I suppose, but I do wish it didn't sound quite so rough.

By that point, I had started taking singing lessons. And after the first session, I mean, I was surprised that the windows didn't shatter. And after the third session, I really didn't know where this voice had come from.

There was a lot of playing by myself, wearing last year's Halloween costume and wandering around the yard talking to myself - which may account for my fondness for doing different voices.

But I still don't have a clear idea of what my voice is.

I never really think too much about my voice.

Voices are like fingerprints, from Cagney to Bogart. They never lost it. My voice is instrumental in categorizing me.