I am now world famous in my own household, following my triumphant two minute special guest slot on Radio Five’s John Pienaar programme.
Our half hour discussion on blogging was pared down to ten terrifying minutes so they could fit in an interview with Sir Jackie Stewart and a discussion on the worldly implications of …err… facial hair; and my leisurely morning shopping in Dorchester followed by use of Radio Solent’s studio next door to Argos was transformed to a nervous telephone interview barricaded inside my living room, lest the kids come in and spoil the illusion that I knew what I was talking about.
I’ve done loads of radio interviews. I’ve set up studios, checked line levels, routed the output down the right hole in the floor, and watched with glee as the poor bastard behind the mic sweated it out. Now it was my turn – national radio – and the urge to shout “Sweaty wanksocks!” down the phone, or tell the David Beckham thermos flask gag was not far from my mind.
Instead, I just babbled on incoherently about My Wonderful Life, completely forgetting the carefully worded statements I had spent hours putting together, and only managed to contradict myself about three times. Then I went and bought a new vacuum cleaner, and not a single bugger recognised me, proving for once and for all that I’ve got a perfect face for radio.
John Pienaar’s moustache rules. Someone should make it a national treasure.