Wright On! Shelley Wright takes a wry look at life

YESTERDAY I spent ten minutes trying to describe teenage country and western star LeAnn Rimes to a baffled Burnley fan who just couldn't put a face to the name. It was like a game on the Crystal Maze.

There I was, desperately trying to explain about her long blonde hair and career so far, while there he was, smiling encouragingly while looking more puzzled all the time.

It was one of those frustrating conversations, you know, where you just know the person you're talking to will know exactly what or who you're on about if only you could make them realise exactly what or who you're on about. Do you see?

I felt sure he would know exactly who LeAnn was if only I could hit upon the right clue - but it was driving me mad trying to find it. If I'm honest though, that's not quite true.

You see I knew from the onset of the conversation that all it would take to ignite that flicker of recognition in his sub-conscious would be a few bars of her greatest hit - but without breaking into an impromptu, not to mention unrecognisable, performance of How Can I Live Without You?, what could I do?

I knew I couldn't do that. I wanted to - in fact, nothing would have given me greater pleasure than to launch into a note perfect, suitably impressive rendition and I even braced myself, holding my hands out like Charlotte Church, ready to burst into song.

Thankfully my brain saved me from instant humiliation by sending a warning to my mouth and nothing came out. Not a squeak. I just went red. Under pressure, I eventually managed to hum about three notes but even I couldn't name that tune from that - and I knew what it was. But it hasn't always been like that you know. All right, I've always been tone deaf, I know that, but at one point all it took for me to get up and sing was the crackle of a karaoke machine and a couple of Bacardi and cokes.

I was made up with a karaoke machine I got for my 18th and I thought I was OK too when everyone started clapping along. What I didn't realise was that I had broken the microphone swinging it round by the wire Tina Turner-style and no one could actually hear a thing.

The fact no one mentioned it serves only to prove my point. I don't know about How Can I Live Without You but I dare say we can all live without that, eh?

Back on the run

JUST moments ago my colleagues and I in the newsroom at the Lancashire Evening Telegraph enjoyed a Pledge moment when the business editor rekindled his daily shop run.

Now regular readers will remember we began our campaign against the shop some months ago when they tried to charge one reporter 4p for a carrier bag. We have stuck to strict sanctions ever since.

In fact none of us had been in the shop until Monday when the lure of cheap Easter Eggs, the new chunky Kit-Kats and packets of Disco crisps proved too much for one blackleg who crossed the picket line shamefaced. It's a good job she did, though, because the shop was undoubtedly missing our trade so much the owner immediately treated us to free cans all round.

Now that's what I call a Diet Coke break.

Why I've joined a very long queue

NEWS from the Robbie Williams front is not so heartwarming I'm afraid - I haven't heard a peep from the cheeky-faced pop star all week. I was hoping to be able to bring you some news on our night out in Haslingden but no such luck.

Mind you, following the reaction to my unrequited love last week I've now realised I'm actually at the back of a very long queue which includes practically every woman I know.

It's not giving me any cause for concern as I truly believe we are in destiny's hands - although I can't believe I fancy the same bloke as my grandma! Eeeurgh.

Converted for the new archive on 14 July 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.