I Won £2,000 at the NatWest Accelerator Pitch – Here's How I Did It (Even Though My Knees Were Knocking)
- Oct 13
- 7 min read
Anyone who's followed me for a while will know I'm often up on stage. Do I sweat? Nope. Does my heart start to pound? Nope. And before you think I'm being cocky, it's only because I've been on stage so many times (there comes a point for everyone where they stop panicking).

So why, oh why, did I suddenly find myself in terrifying new territory last week at the Natwest Accelerator Pitch?
How a 60 Second Pitch I Learned 2 Years Ago Changed Everything
Let me take you back to the beginning... I joined the Natwest Accelerator back in September 2022 to help Life on a Rice Cake be the business I wanted it to be - i.e. helping people not have to go through what I did with coeliac disease and Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS).
They were brilliant at helping me do what's called an elevator pitch. Basically, in the time you'd have if you got into a lift with someone, you'd be able to tell them what your business was about and persuade them how to help you before the doors pinged for their floor.
We practised over and over again. There'd often be quite a few people there to watch (and not always the same ones).
At the end of a year with Natwest, we were invited to give a longer pitch of 3 minutes (that's a slow elevator) to a panel of experts. I decided mine would be without a powerpoint because I knew everyone else would use one. Now this could have been disastrous. What would I do if I lost my way? I'd have no prompts and no-one else to fill in. But I was determined I'd stand out from the others (knowing all too well I could stand out for the wrong reasons).
Fortunately, the pitch went well. But that was two years ago and a heck of a lot had changed.

The Awkward Truth: I Thought the Prize Would Be a £30 Amazon Voucher
It's two years since I did the Natwest Accelerator but I'd kept in touch with my mentor there and several other people I'd met who also ran their own businesses. And I'd been told things were changing. Previous staff had left, new people had come in and new rules...starting with a pitch being open to anyone who'd ever done the Accelerator.
I applied. They'd given instructions to do a 60 second video and they'd whittle the entries down to 5 people, letting the shortlist know by 12th September. They said there'd be a cash prize so I honestly thought it'd be a £30 Amazon gift voucher. Or money off something. I had no idea what lay ahead.
But when 12th September came and I heard nothing, I assumed I hadn't got through. I must admit, I was a bit narked because I'd thought my entry was a good one. But I got on with other things because why dwell on it, and then was surprised to see an e-mail in my inbox a week later congratulating me on getting a place in the final five.
The NLP Secret Nobody Tells You: Why Practising "In State" Actually Matters
Obviously I was pleased, but I realised to win I'd need to up my game. So I wrote and rewrote a better pitch. And I thought I had it sorted.
Except...
I hadn't factored in what Ali Campbell calls being "in state". If you've not already come across him, Ali Campbell is an expert psychologist who's written a book on neuro-linguistic programming (NLP) which, in part, details why people perform differently under pressure.

He takes the example of the male England football team and how they're known for being rubbish at penalties. I can still remember the commentator in the 1996 European Cup saying, "Poor old Southgate." But Campbell explains what's going on. He says you need to be in the same state when you practise to get the same result in the moment. So if you practise penalty shoot outs with your team when you're relaxed then you won't get the same results when your adrenaline's pumping and millions of fans are holding their breath as you aim the football into the net.
What Campbell does is he gets players to be in the pressured state they'll be in if England has to go to penalties. (Clearly, the England women's football team have been practising his technique and that's why Sunday 27th July this year has gone down in history.)
Anyway, back to being in state. If only I'd known this when I practised my pitch.
When Your Body Betrays You: Managing Nerves When It Counts

Now I know all about box breathing. I know how to make myself calm. What I didn't know - and hadn't anticipated - was that because it had been so long since I'd done a pitch at the Natwest Accelerator, I wouldn't be able to call upon my usual gung-ho attitude.
Why My Mouth Went to Mush
Firstly, I didn't know what order the pitches were in. Nor did I know at what point in the day they'd happen. Natwest had invited everyone from 3pm onwards but they had an awful lot they wanted to say before the pitches. That meant plenty of time for my nerves to grow.
Here, I must add a little aside: the stuff they were doing before the pitches was actually really interesting. They had several former Natwest Accelerator candidates up on stage talking about their business success (everything from coffee beans to DJ-ing). The trouble was, I couldn't get my pitch straight in my head.
The Business Behind the Nerves: Tackling IBS-Related Absenteeism in the Workplace
But I had the pitch written on a sheet and kept checking it to remind myself what I wanted to say. The most important bit was to get in the hook (my first sentence), tell people how I did it (with cognitive reframing techniques), tell them who I was and then give an ask (for investment).
But of course, with my state now different from my relaxed-at-home-able-to-recite-my-pitch-from-the-comfort-of-my-Uggs, I didn't quite manage it.
First up were two old Natwest Accelerator friends. I was simulatenously cheered and troubled by seeing them do great pitches: clearly, I wanted them to do well but, given my already nervous state, I realised they were really raising the bar. Their pitches were blemish-free, practically word-perfect and fun. Mine was...totally disappearing from my head.
At first, when my name was called, I felt okay. I left my notes under my chair and bounced up onto the stage, pleased it was my turn (I'd been wanting to get it over ever since I'd sat down). But what I hadn't anticipated was the audience's reaction to my opening line: "If you are what you eat, 20 years ago I'd have been a rice cake."
They laughed. At my joke. Actually laughed. And because I hadn't practised with laughter, suddenly I felt as though my mind had been wiped and I really wasn't sure what to say next.
But you know how these things are - you can't just stop and look at your notes and start again - so I just ploughed on, and - would you believe it - my knees actually started knocking. I don't think I've ever had knocking knees - I thought it was just a phrase - so if I didn't show I was nervous already, my body was giving away a million signals I was absolutely terrified.
Fortunately, I remembered most of my data (good) and key points (good) but totally forgot to tell everyone how (not so good). And then, when it was over and I'd sat down in my chair again, I remembered the key phrase I'd forgotten - gah! - and it was too late.
Thankfully, I had remembered to say that my strategy was to tackle absenteeism in the workplace. I'd remembered to say that IBS sufferers take an average of 15 days a year off work and how I wanted to solve the issue with corporate training and 1:1 mentoring sessions. And it must have worked because when they announced who'd won the £2,000 prize, my name was called!
What Winning Taught Me About Showing Up (Even When You're Terrified)
Suddenly, instead of being nervous, I was completely calm again, albeit in a state of shock. So when they invited me to give a speech, I didn't feel anxious at all.
I referenced 3 things that I thought everyone should abide by:
I remarked there were probably quite a few people in the audience who'd thought to themselves, "I can't go up and pitch." But I said whenever I thought to myself "I can't do that" I turned it into "I must do that." I mean, what's there to lose? If you're not going up to pitch, you already haven't won.
I told them about escape fails and worthy fails. I said that just by going up to pitch if they didn't win, at least they'd tried (a worthy fail). But if they had that fixed mindset of thinking they wouldn't win and therefore there was no point trying, it'd be an escape fail (which doesn't impress anyone).
I told them I'd forgotten a key phrase from my speech but that it didn't matter - that version one was better than version none.
Afterwards, in my still-in-shock state, I was able to chat to old friends and allow myself a glass of sparkling (I'd swerved the alcohol beforehand for obvious reasons). I had so many people congratulating me, which was lovely, and an enormous TV-style cheque to show off proudly.

When I got home, my children were engrossed in other things, but I made them stop what they were doing (which slightly bothered them as my son was deep in a game of chess with my brother, who happened to be visiting at the time). I asked them to guess what Mummy had done that evening and then unrolled the cheque (which I'd curled up tightly on the bus for fear of someone actually thinking I'd got £2k on me).
Everyone was thrilled, so we got out the whisky (with hot chocolates for the children) and toasted to success.
And that's what I want for you: success in an area of your life that doesn't feel like it's going so well. I've had many health issues, and I know you probably have too, but isn't it ironic that those health issues are the reason I'm celebrating now?








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