You ready? OK. What is this? Vroom-vroom-vroom. Answer: a car. Good. Now this: vroom-vroom-vroom. Bood-bood! A car horn being blown in traffic congestion. Here's a tricky one: nee-errrh . . . bood-bood . . . errrh . . . vroom-vroom-vroom. That is my way of saying 'Do you drive?' in Putonghua. If it is any consolation at all, at least I am better at car impressions than at speaking the national language - which is just as well because no one across the border would understand me otherwise. Actually, I can do impersonations too. 'It is understandable, orgh, the public criticises the way we have, orgh, handled the issue, orgh, but there are areas where, orgh, improvements need to be made and we are, orgh, going to make those improvements.' That was Chief Executive Tung Chee-hwa explaining himself during the bird flu crisis. 'Hmmm. Hmmm. Hmmm. Hmmm . . .' That's Provisional Legislative Council member Wong Siu-yee trying to sound interesting. 'Blah! Blah!! Blah!!!' Legislator Wong, again vying for attention. 'Quack! Quack! Moo-moo, ooi-ooi, ruff-ruff!' A municipal council meeting in session, debating whether a night out at the Crazy Horse Club can be classified as 'entertainment' and is, therefore, claimable. Not bad, huh? Actually, I used to do a lot of impressions when I was a member of a drama group at university. Oh yes, I have done a fair bit of performing in my time. My stage debut (at the age of five?) was a non-speaking role as a, hmmm, I cannot really remember what I was but it had something to do with riding on a chair. Perhaps I was a cowboy. Then my next role was as an angel in a Nativity play in my old school in England, which was also a non-speaking part. Everyone was saying: 'Look, a four-eyed Chinese angel!' Several years later I was in Gilbert and Sullivan's The Yeomen of the Guard. I was a singing yeoman. It must have looked very odd because I don't think they had Chinese yeomen in medieval times. But at least I got rid of my glasses. Just before I left college I was in another non-speaking role as an extra. But my performances (as a runner, thug, passer-by and dog) were so good and convincing one of the teachers literally fell off his chair laughing. Still, I have never wanted to become an actor because: 1) I can never remember my lines - hence all those non-speaking roles and my abysmal grades in English literature; and 2) I would not know a good script even if it was flapping above my head with flashing Christmas lights attached. But I joined the drama group at university because it seemed like a cool thing to do when you were a fuzzy-brained teenager. I remember my first lesson was learning how to breathe. Now, you would have thought even fuzzy-brained teenagers knew how to do that but, no, in the world of acting, learning how to breathe is more than just inhaling and exhaling. It is about self-control, self-awareness and skipping lectures. Once the breathing technique was mastered, we were asked by our acting teacher to do all sorts of impressions. My first impression was to be an apple. With my physique I thought a pair of chopsticks would have been more appropriate. But to be a good actor you have to believe in what you are. So I stood there, motionless, concentrating on the fact that I was an apple before my teacher tapped me on the shoulder and asked what I was doing. 'I am acting as an apple,' I told her. 'No, no, Kevin!' she declaimed. 'I want you to do an impression of someone eating an apple.' My teacher thought I was great all the same. Then I dabbled with a little bit of amateur acting here and there, got really bad reviews (even though my roles were mostly non-speaking ones) and decided to call it a day. But what do critics know anyway? As the late Brendan Behan, Irish writer and dramatist, once remarked: 'Critics are like eunuchs in a harem. They're there every night, they see it done every night, they see how it should be done every night, but they can't do it themselves.' How apt. Anyway, got to dash. Have to go vrrrroooom-vrooom-vroom.