Anjali Mya Chadha
Actor, Writer, Producer
About Me
I was born in London and from an early age I had plans to be a pop-star - only I can’t sing. Ooops!
Slight spanner in the works.
So I opted for plan B, to write for 'My Guy' magazine. How cool would it be to be paid to write about boys, pop-stars and kissing tips?
It’s not like I didn’t spend most of my time talking about such stuff to my friends. But to be paid to do it? Err, wow!
However, by the time I hit sixth form that particular plan had fallen by the wayside. I'd donned a pair of Doc Martins, drunk snake bite & black and listened to depressing indie music.
As a recently turned vegetarian with social angst, I now had plans to be a serious actor/playwright.
No worries though, you can’t keep a girlie girl down for long. After a moment of weakness when confronted by a chicken burger in KFC one drunken night, as well as acquiring a gay best friend at uni, I was soon back to boogie-ing to Kylie in cheesy clubs.
Once I left uni? Well, my CV will take it from there.
Titbits:
Worst job I ever had - Standing in Sainsbury's behind a promotions stand whilst trying to get people to sample new flavoured crackers...
p.s if you want to sample all three flavours just ask. It’s no skin off my nose and isn’t likely to bankrupt McVite's either. But don’t clutch a packet, pretending you’re going to buy it and claiming that’s why you need to devour half of every plate in order to make sure you’re buying the right flavour. I know you’re going to ditch it on some random shelf in the next aisle you go down.
The reason I know?
The store managers always made us go round to collect them up, otherwise they'd call the
promotions company and complain.
The what-was-I-thinking points in my life – My teenage years! It was a very funny decade; it was all frosted pink lipstick, electric blue eyeliner and poodle perms.
Only no one told me, "you're brown! That colour scheme is not intended for you; and you’ve also got five times the head of hair of your average brunette, at five times the thickness, don’t perm it."
Imagine Lily Savage cross-bred with Jermaine Jackson (during his afro years)
I now understand why I never enticed Roshen Suri to ask me out. He was probably sat there in class thinking "who the hell is this transvestite
making eyes at me?"
And still rocking the hand on hip look...