The way I talk to the puppets is real, and it's in the moment, and it's seeing what will happen. It's not something that is scripted.

I looked into studying psychoanalysis, wrote to the governing body and was about to start the year where they psychoanalyse you, four times a week, before you get to do it yourself. I just thought I'd taken the ventriloquism as far as I could. My act is so deconstructive, and I'd made all the monkey jokes anyone wanted to hear.

I was really awful at auditions. There's something about sitting down and saying into the camera: "I'm Nina and this is the name of my agent." That makes me just die inside.

My dad is a much more flamboyant character than I am. I think that's why I couldn't see myself going into straight acting. I always just felt daft.

Having a puppet is a way of having opposing opinions - I say a thing; he says the other.

I like my squishy, red, high-heeled Vivienne Westwood jelly shoes. They make you seem like you're much more of a go-er.

I had a terrible dream when I was pregnant; I dreamt the baby had a ventriloquial mouth, but there was no hand hole; I had to flick the mouth down to get words out.