Had my four minutes in the limelight today, appearing for interview on the BBC1 Breakfast Show (with Charlie and Susanna!). Taxi arrived at 6am, confirming that it was actually real, and not some dodgy cheese I ate. Got to White City in about half an hour- I really recommend having rush hour at six o'clock- it's much quieter.
Got to a spookily empty looking Beeb and led through the fables corridors, which are exactly as utilitarian as a public service should be. Sat in the Green Room (the peasants' one, for people like me, not the Russell Brand one) and sat with all the other rent-a-gobs until it was my time.
Endured the red-faced shame of having man make-up. I think I may now have tide marks. I apologise for knowing what they are. Anyway, I was led on by the floor manager into a set with about five people on it; not intimidating at all. Charlie (he does wear a lot of make up. Looks about twenty years younger for it, so maybe he's got the right idea) and Susanna were brisk, warm and efficient- I suppose that's part of the talent of a job like that, to make the guest feel at ease; they certainly did. It didn't feel like national breakfast TV at all.
Afterwards we made small talk for about ten seconds and I was off in another taxi and back to school, just in time for briefing and the shower of glory from school kids that only an appearance on telly can guarantee, no mater what you've done. I swear I could go postal with a sniper rifle, and they'd bump me if they saw it on Bang! Goes the theory.
Afterwards, every social networking device I had was paralysed with all the data bottlenecking from people whose breakfasts I'd ruined by my invasion. I can only apologise to them all. What a hoot.