Maybe it’s the distinctive cocked hat and cane, the booming voice or the overall nastiness. Or maybe it’s because Mr Bumble just isn’t as appealing as angelic little Oliver Twist.

Whatever the reason, my 11-year-old nephew, Jack, decided he would rather not be in his school play at all than take on the role of the pompous workhouse beadle.

Jack auditioned for the part of Oliver, but lost out to another boy. When he came home from school in tears the other day, it wasn’t so much because he wasn’t going to be Oliver – it was because he’d been offered Mr Bumble instead. “I would have played any other part. This is the one I really didn’t want,” he wailed.

No amount of persuasion has changed his mind. “He’s the one who causes all the uproar when Oliver asks for more. It’s a great role, much better than drippy Oliver,” I told him, as he disappeared upstairs muttering: “No-one can make me do it.”

Jack’s never had a problem with performing – he played Joseph in the school Nativity aged five, and has sung solo and played piano in front of the whole school at concerts – but now he’s prepared to miss out on his last play at primary school, thanks to villainous Mr Bumble. His mum thinks it’s something to do with the big hat, the long coat, and a tricky song Jack insists is “opera”.

It’s a shame, but I know how he feels. Aged about 12, I landed the role of Cinderella in a youth group panto and was horrified when I learned I’d be singing a solo. Not just any solo, but I Feel Pretty from West Side Story.

Not only is it a tricky song to pull off, it’s about feeling pretty, so I was sick with worry that the cast, crew and audience would think I was vain. I’d wake up at night in a cold sweat fretting about it. Thankfully, the solo was replaced with a duet I sang with Prince Charming, which wasn’t so terrifying.

Other roles weren’t as glamorous as Cinders. I was a shepherd in my first Nativity, when I was desperate to play the Angel Gabriel, and a haughty old woman in The Caucasian Chalk Circle at secondary school.

When I see youngsters performing on TV talent shows, I’m amazed by their confidence. A pair of impressive 12-year-old dancers on Britain’s Got Talent this week looked like seasoned professionals.

There’s a thin line between confidence and precociousness, though. I’d rather have sensitive, kind-hearted Jack shunning the limelight than a pushy diva child with stars in their eyes.