Having sucked the mainland dry of discernible talent some years ago, the TV juggernaut that is Britain's Got Talent has set its sights on the fresh pastures of the Scottish Islands.

So this week the good people of the Outer Hebrides, Shetland and Orkney, as well as Inverness, are being given their chance to shine at an audition venue closer to home.

Previously, would-be stars have had to voyage to the central belt to secure their three-second clip in the montage of also-rans.

Sadly, La Cowell will not be in attendance for the island auditions. His amazed/disapproving reaction shot will presumably be spliced in afterwards. Instead, he will travel to Edinburgh next year for the main Scottish audition.

Good luck to them, I say. Having flirted with amateur dramatics I have experienced the involuntary whole-body cringe that immediately follows a bad audition.

As a student, I was faced with a choice of writing an essay on Japanese history or trying out for a production of Bugsy Malone, and opted for the latter. However, as I stood outside the double doors of the audition room listening to the person before me strangle a version of Ordinary Fool, my nerve deserted me. I decided that this gig really wasn't for me.

I was about to run for the hills when a passing friend stopped to chat and diverted me from my escape. Before I knew it, the doors had flown open and a tear-stained would-be songstress fled the scene.

"You're up!" beamed the musical director with a sly glint before leading me into a featureless room with windows running along one wall. I mention this because it was dark outside and the windows acted as a mirror that enabled me in future years to recall my humiliation from two different angles.

Behind a shabby desk sat three self-appointed "judges"; Smug, Bored and Evil.

It turned out I was the last scheduled audition of the evening, so with a little time to play with, the Axis of Awful decided to have a little fun.

For my rendition of My Name is Tallulah I was directed to "make it breathy" and flirt heavily with a wooden chair wearing a hat. Next up was a spot of improvisation where I had to be Wonder Woman while the head judge chased me round the room and "shot" at me.

The only saving grace was that the judges didn't give on-the-spot feedback, as is the favoured format on all these talent shows. Like I say, Good luck folks.