No Holding Back

by Amanda Holden

  But I had seen the relationship between Danni Minogue and Cheryl Cole on The X Factor, that had been created to look competetive, and I wasn’t going to play the game of having two women fighting. I hate that kind of shit, so I talked to Piers and we decided to go and find her – and then we discovered she had been put in another hotel!

  We all arrived at the venue the next morning and Simon was late, as always. Ant and Dec, professionals to the end, were there, and Kelly didn’t get off to a great start when she went up to them and asked, ‘So, what do you do on the show, then?’ Whoops. It seemed she hadn’t even seen the show. I grabbed her and hugged her like a long-lost friend and told her, ‘You’ll be amazing!’ At that point, Simon finally walked in and smiled. ‘Hi, kids! Have you all met?’

  We could have killed him and, one by one, everyone pounced on him privately, asking him what was he thinking. He said very little and instead seemed to secretly be enjoying the havoc. He was like a cat, playing with his pet mice. Then, when we finally went out into the auditorium and looked up at our names above the crosses, I stopped dead in my tracks – Simon had placed Kelly next to him instead of me. That really stung, but I could have won an Oscar that night for my performance, even though I was dying inside.

  Kelly was sweet and inoffensive, but judging isn’t as easy as everyone thinks. You have to find something interesting and different to say about every act, and you can’t be bland or repetitive.

  On a practical level, it was also very confusing having four judges back then, as nobody had worked out a format. With three judges on the panel, the contestants knew that if two buzzers went off they were fighting for survival; three, and they were off. But when two out of four went off they didn’t know where they were, which was a technicality that hadn’t been thought through. Ant and Dec, who were watching from the wings waiting for it all to kick off, had to keep explaining that they needed three buzzers to guarantee getting through to the next round. And we were listening to four people’s opinions. It slowed the process down, and we didn’t finish until midnight. We were knackered, the audience was falling asleep – and everyone was confused.

  After that first night, Simon admitted that he’d made a mistake but he said he couldn’t get rid of Kelly straight away because that wouldn’t be fair. But that weekend, at home for Lexi’s birthday party, the papers were full of ‘The Amanda-Kelly War’, with photos of us both in cream dresses, trying to make out there was friction between us that simply didn’t exist. I mean, if there’s a massive hole with a flashing sign over it saying, ‘Jump in and be a bitch’, I’m not likely to fall into it, am I? It couldn’t have been further from the truth, and there were no spats. It’s not me. I’m a girl’s girl.

  I came straight back from those auditions for Lexi’s birthday – I’m always given the weekend off to celebrate it with her – and as I was in the middle of her Tinkerbell birthday party, the call came through that Kelly Brook was not coming back for the next auditions in Glasgow. She was very dignified and to her credit, because of the fuss the papers had made, she made it clear to everyone that her leaving had nothing to do with me. Kelly is amazing – she never stops working – but she just wasn’t right for our show.

  And so the Glasgow auditions in April 2009 started with the production team in a much better frame of mind. The auditions were to be held at the King’s Theatre, where I’d appeared in Aladdin with Les what felt like a hundred years before. Scotland is always a hard gig, and Glasgow is the toughest. Its audience is the scariest in the whole country, and fiercely loyal. They even have their own chants!

  Close to the end of the day, Piers and I were, as always, full to the brim of milky lattes and burping Red Bull. Simon, on the other hand, had probably OD’d on mango smoothies. The atmosphere was so dark and black that Simon was really worried about how he would edit the show, and he was also getting bored, so we were trying to keep his spirits up.

  Simon gets bored very easily and sometimes has a face on him that looks like he’s just sat down for double maths on a Friday afternoon, so I’ll suggest we write notes on paper, draw stupid things or play games – like the one where we have to add words into our comments (in the past I’ve told a ventriloquist I didn’t trust him because he was ‘as slippery as a moray eel’, and told a woman she was like ‘raspberry ripple ice cream’ . . .)

  Simon toys with me as well – one day he told me that the next contestant was pregnant so I asked her, ‘Are you up the duff?’ She didn’t understand me, so I said, ‘Sorry, are you expecting?’ Still she didn’t get it, so I said, ‘Are you having a baby?’ ‘No I am not!’ she replied indignantly. Simon laughed and said, ‘Oh, Amanda – you bitch!’ I was mortified. Later he told me that one contestant had been a man in a previous life and said I should ask them about it, but I knew he was trying to trick me and refused. (It is only ever me he seems to play this game with and sometimes I play and sometimes I don’t!)

  But on this occasion we hadn’t had a chance to start any games before a thickset middle-aged woman from a small town in West Lothian walked out on to the stage – she was giddy and excitable, and to be honest, we all thought she was one of our more eccentric acts. My first hunch was that she’d be a stand-up comic and my heart sank.

  I try not to judge by appearance (I mean, Paul Potts didn’t exactly look great when we first saw him, and he sang like an angel) but even though she was in a favourite gold dress and had clearly made a bit of an effort, her black tights and white shoes she now admits herself were a no, no. She said her name was Susan Boyle. Simon asked her how old she was and in a thick Scottish accent she said, ‘Forty-seven, and that’s just one side of me.’ Simon asked what her dream was and she said she wanted to be a professional singer as successful as Elaine Paige but hadn’t been given the chance before. ‘Here’s hoping it will change,’ she added. Someone shouted something and the audience began to get restless. They wanted blood, and by now were laughing at her and shouting, ‘Elvis, get off Elvis.’ Susan announced she was going to sing ‘I Dreamed a Dream’ from Les Misérables and I gave Piers a look which said, ‘Oh God, here we go!’

  But what happened next that day was unbelievable. Now, we call it a YouTube moment (until then YouTube, MySpace or Twitter hadn’t really had an impact on us, but now it is a core part of the show. The first question Simon will ask a band is how many YouTube hits they have had). Susan’s singing was something else. I had goosebumps – in fact, I’ve got goosebumps now just thinking about it! Even that toughest of Glasgow audiences jumped to its feet and started cheering within a few seconds of her opening her mouth. I joined them, leaning back against my chair, hands behind my head in shock. (When I look back at that clip that went global, I just think, ‘Thank God I waxed those pits!’) As I watched Susan, I had tears in my eyes. I felt ashamed of myself for judging her – she was amazing.

  Piers told her that she was the biggest surprise of his three years on the show. He said people had laughed at her when she’d said she wanted to be like Elaine Paige. ‘No one is laughing now,’ he added. ‘Stunning. An incredible performance. I am reeling from shock.’ I told her, ‘I am so thrilled, because I know that everybody was against you. I honestly think that we were all being very cynical and I think that is the biggest wake-up call ever. I just want to say it was a complete privilege listening to that.’ Simon, of course, claimed he could tell the minute Susan walked on to the stage that we were going to hear something extraordinary and added, ‘and I was right!’ Cheeky bugger.

  Her performance really struck us all that night, but none of us could have imagined what would happen next. Later, Chris phoned me and asked if we found anyone, and I simply said, ‘Yes, I think we had a Paul Potts moment.’ I didn’t even have Susan down to win! She was definitely in my top five, but we had some strong contenders for the final – she was up against Diversity and Flawless.

  When the Susan Boyle audition show aired, the world went nuts. Piers called me the next day and said, ‘Have you heard a
bout Susan Boyle?’ (Can you believe I replied. ‘Susan who?’) I had no clue what he was talking about so I put the news on. It was on the news. She was on the news. I was on the news myself! The video went viral around the globe and she must have almost brought YouTube to a standstill. (I was wearing a hideous green satin dress on the clip – typical that was the one that went worldwide!) Chris put her on Google Alerts for me but had to turn it off because of the input. When you flicked channels, you would just hear Susan Boyle/Susan Boyle/Susan Boyle. It was the first time the public had seen something like that. It was mad, huge and life-changing – for all of us.

  But it was America that really got her. She epitomises the American dream, that it doesn’t matter what you look like or where you come from. Demi Moore and Ashton Kutcher tweeted about her and her story took off from there. I tweeted Demi back and said, ‘Why don’t you come to the finals?’ Swiftly, Susan became known as SuBo. News crews from all over the world flew to Scotland to interview Susan at her modest little house. Within hours, I had news crews turning up at my house, too, and the next few weeks were crazy as I did live feeds to NBC, Fox, CBS in the US and other TV shows all over the world. Interviewer after interviewer asked me, ‘How did you feel when you first heard her sing? How do you feel now?’

  After watching me and interviewing me, CBS asked me to be their ‘special British contributor’, which meant presenting live shows and being a news correspondent, covering anything from the Afghan war to fashion bargains. They wanted me to comment on anything and everything, and suddenly I was spending most of my time back and forth to their studios in New York. I couldn’t believe it. All those fruitless years of traipsing around LA for pilot season and it took an unassuming unemployed singer from Scotland to start my career in America. All of a sudden I was introduced as, ‘Live from London, here’s Special Correspondent Amanda Holden!’ Everyone knew who I was and wanted to know what I thought, what Susan would be wearing for the finals, how she was doing or how I thought she’d cope with future fame as she had learning difficulties. I told them she was tougher than she looked. ‘She’s been singing in Glasgow bars! She’s a tough cookie.’ Weeks later, Susan was still on every news channel in the US. There was a major plane crash, and even that was still second to the Susan Boyle story, nearly two weeks after it had first broken.

  CBS asked me to go to the States and anchor a show for a week’s holiday cover. Bear in mind that, up to this point, my presenting skills stretched as far as shiny-floor shows – or what the industry calls light entertainment. So there I was, with my male co-presenter, interviewing (for example) a woman who had her kids taken away from her because she was so obese. Every afternoon I would have to meet my producer, to get my ‘package’ and see what I was going to be talking about and what I was going to wear (you can’t have too much cleavage over there – Lorraine Kelly would cause a scandal in middle America with her chest!).

  When it came to the finals six weeks later, Susan seemed nervous but I was actually more concerned about the other contestants – it seemed a given that she’d win. Susan had really enjoyed all the attention but the pressure for her to come up with the goods again – this time with the whole world watching – was massive.

  Backstage, I asked if she was okay and she told me she was going to be sick. ‘Oh, that’s normal,’ I told her. ‘Barbra Streisand is sick every time she goes on stage.’ She went outside and had a cup of tea with my motorbike taxi driver, Rhys, who’d just dropped me off, and they had a poignant conversation about how she knew her life would change.

  The vote came in and Susan was named as the first act in the top three. Saxophonist Julian Smith and dance troupe Diversity were named too, as Susan stood stony-faced and bilious. Eventually Ant and Dec announced that Julian was out, leaving Susan and Diversity as the final two. It seemed as if all the predictions would come true. Then the announcement came that Diversity had won – which, on the face of it, was a huge shock, but of course the demographic of voters is mainly young. None of us know the result beforehand, and it was like a moment frozen in time.

  Susan put on a brave face and smiled and clapped but I could tell she was gutted, as if her world had ended. I felt so sorry for her. Once she left the stage her façade crumbled – she thought it was all over – and she was spirited away with the other contestants to a hotel in Wembley near to Fountain Studios where Britain’s Got Talent is filmed, while as on previous shows, us judges all went to The Dorchester for post-finals drinks . . .

  It was in her hotel that Susan had what can only be described as a bit of a breakdown. I think the pressure became too much for her and she buckled under it. It had been her only option, and she thought her dream had been snatched away. She thought her life was over and the whole thing a cruel gimmick. Fortunately she has a very sensible brother who looked after her well and, with his help, the producers got her into The Priory clinic to have a rest. Of course, she made worldwide headlines again. I was flown to CBS to appear on their breakfast show and was also invited on to Larry King Live on CNN to comment. Treading carefully, I quoted her brother as saying she was in a clinic and was very much looking forward to coming out and seeing what work was on offer to her when she felt better.

  ‘Britain’s Got Talent is a very loyal show and all the contestants are extraordinarily well looked after,’ I told Larry King. ‘We love Susan and she’s getting the best possible support.’ I told Susan’s American fans that if she was a loser then she was ‘the biggest and best loser in the world’ and coming second was no bad thing.

  On CBS’s Early Show I sat against a backdrop of Union Jack cushions with tea and cakes, and chatted to their anchors. Later, they encouraged me to come up with my own ideas so I had breakfast at Tiffany’s, took a horse carriage ride around Central Park and auditioned people to see if I could find ‘a new Susan Boyle’. Thanks to Susan, I went on to host a series of magazine slots for CBS, including red carpet interviews at events such as Elton John’s Academy Awards party (Victoria Beckham told me she’d been touched to see me ‘looking amazing’ in one of her dresses a few weeks earlier!) and interviews on their sofa for stars such as Leonardo DiCaprio, Johnny Depp, Cate Blanchett, Anne Hathaway, Tim Burton and Keira Knightley. I covered the Royal Wedding and the exhibition of Princess Diana’s dresses at Kensington Palace, but turned down covering the Olympics for them because I was going to LA that summer with Chris and Lexi. I even interviewed Simon at his home. The Beatles had just gone on to iTunes and so I asked if he would have put them through if they had auditioned on The X Factor. He said he’d put three of them through and get rid of the drummer, which caused a huge uproar.

  Over this time I appeared on just about every chat show sofa in the UK, too – except Jonathan Ross’s, that is. Years earlier he’d made a cheap gag about me at the Comedy Awards during my affair with Neil (even the audience had booed him!), and I’d vowed I’d never do his programme, especially after he continued the gag for three consecutive years. I’ve never regretted it, either. After he and Russell Brand got the sack from the BBC, he moved to ITV and included me on his wishlist of guests for his last BBC show. He wrote me a letter telling me I was on it. Over the years, Jonathan had made countless cheap gags at my expense and although he had indirectly apologised, it was great to say no. ‘I’d rather go on a new couch than a stinky old one,’ I wrote back. (I may guest in future though – I’m over it now!)

  The first time I heard Susan’s album I Dreamed a Dream I was at Simon’s house in Los Angeles with Chris and Piers. It was very dark and Simon had fire torches burning all around his swimming pool. He put ‘Wild Horses’ on and said, ‘Listen to this.’ Susan’s voice rang out into the night, and it was an ethereal, spiritual moment. What a voice! I thought even Simon might cry. Chris said it would be the biggest selling record in the world, and in 2010 it was – it’s still the biggest selling debut of all time.

  One of the reasons I love Britain’s Got Talent so much is that it constantly reminds me of why I g
ot involved in the business in the first place, and there’s no better story to illustrate that than Susan’s. She has proved that talent wins out, and that anyone from anywhere can make it. She has released four albums, sold more records than anyone else in the world over the last four years, netted over £22 million and she’s now a showbiz legend even though her career has only just begun. She has truly dreamed her dream, and she’s inspired the rest of us to never give up on ours. The words Susan Boyle and global phenomenon are now forever entwined – whenever you search one you’ll get the other – and I became central to that phenomenon too. I was and still am so proud to have been a part of it.

  The only question now was, how the hell was Britain’s Got Talent going to top all that?

  Chapter 18

  A Bumpy Year

  The worldwide focus on Britain’s Got Talent meant work offers came flooding in, and when ITV asked me to train as a midwife and front a documentary Out of My Depth, I was immediately intrigued. Midwifery was a subject I was really interested in, and now, having done it, something I really believe I could do for a living. And so, with our second baby still not on the agenda, I focused on the next best thing – other people’s babies!

  Putting on my uniform and starting my training at West Middlesex Hospital was terrifying and amazing, but I felt right at home, and I loved and adored every minute of it. Under the expert eyes of Pippa Nightingale, Natalie Carter and Jackie Nash, I spent five weeks doing my basic training of scrubbing beds, holding hands, hugging tearful mums and dads, sieving poo out of birthing pools (yep!) and – best of all – delivering five babies, including twins in a Caesarean section (although I only watched that one . . .). The best thing about the whole experience, though, was meeting the three women, who not only became close friends but my ‘guardian angels’ in the months and years to come.