06/10/2017 by Chris Green
The Prime Minister’s ‘frog-in-the-throat’ moment will be something that any preacher will know. It might be something that you are aware of but has never happened – but if, like me, you know it from the inside, you identify with her panic, and her inability to solve the problem.
It feels as though your entire speaking system has gone on lockdown, and that nothing seems to help. Your vocal cords have gone AWOL, and nothing can bring them back.
It might be a cold. It might be nerves. It might be, as it was on one occasion I still recall clearly, for no apparent reason at all.
So what to do?
First, even if you are healthy, plan have the right support. Ideally, I try to avoid dairy for a few hours before I speak, because that generates mucus (sorry, gross moment there). Black coffee, black tea, green tea – keep yourself milk-free.
Second, if you have a cold, go in properly prepared. Generic cough sweets are all very well, but really, any sweet you can suck will do the basic job of lubricating your throat with saliva (sorry, they keep on coming). Obviously the branded ones have added menthol so forth which can clear your nose temporarily, but on the throat point, any one will do in a crisis.
Add two weapons to that. If you’re near a music shop, pick up some Vocalzone pastilles. Tried and trusted by musicians and actors, they are the best of-the-shelf solution to keep you going. Better than those cold sweeties anyway. And if you are near a herby health-food shop, pick up some Throat Coat infusion bags. You’ll need to keep your fluids up anyway, but they are the best secret weapon I know.
Third, while you’re speaking, have the right drink beside you. My least favourite is a glass of water (What? Hear me out). That’s what the Prime Minister was offered in her crisis, and while it as well-meant, there are two easy and better options.
Take hot or at least warm water with you. It’s less of a shock to the vocal system and is less likely to keep the vocal cords in some kind of panic attack. You’re aiming to relax and release some muscles and dangly bits in that throat, so be kind to it. In the PM’s crisis, some aide should have put the kettle on. Knowing she had a cold, she should have had that ready anyway.
And if you really want to prep like a pro, add a small pinch of salt to your hot water. Not enough to taste, but enough to get the saliva working.
Fourth, in the emergency, stop, apologise, ask for a cup of hot water, and take a brief pause. The PM’s stakes were so high that she obviously felt she couldn’t take that risk, although even there I’d argue that she’d so lost her rhetorical mojo by that point she’d have been better off leaving the stage, getting the voice sorted, and coming back on in command. But for us, where our jobs aren’t on the line in the same way, I’d assume that people were sympathetic, ask for a cup of hot water, and say you were going to stop for a minute to get yourself sorted. People will understand.
Anything else you’ve learned? Pile in!