A little story about my interview with the BBC

I arrived at the BBC studios early, I’m always early. I sat in a shop over the road wondering if I was going to make it through the interview without forgetting my name. I drank a coffee. But not before wrestling for 20 minutes over whether I was drinking one too soon, so would crash before the interview…or whether I should be drinking one at all. What if I turn grumpy and impatient? Maybe I should have a green tea and go all Buddha.  I decided – because I had too much big stuff to worry about – that I didn’t have enough time to worry so much about the subtle implications of varying caffeine levels, so I ordered a coffee and took a seat. I drank the coffee. I nervously picked at the paper cup. Then I ate the paper cup, folded myself into a ball, and rolled myself into the corner. I waited, shivering beneath the weight of my deluded ambition.  I had one eye on the clock, and another on the idea of my career being destroyed with the accidental shouting out of something racist or sexually deviant live on the radio. I’m not sexually deviant or racist, but when the pressure builds, my brain floods with all the things I shouldn’t think or say, instead of all the things it should probably be putting out there to help sell my books.

I walked into the BBC studios with my head full of erections and offensive words, knowing the adrenaline rush could literally push anything out of my mouth before I had a chance to veto it.

Comedian Glenn Wool was waiting to be interviewed. What a lovely down to earth bloke he is. Turns out we have both been homeless. He gave me some good advice, and helped calm me down. Then I listened to his interview, and he knocked it out of the park. I had to follow a professional comedian.

I sat down to have the interview, imagining my career in flames and the only way I could save it was to have sex with a goat on live radio. I was halfway through answering the first question when I became aware that my mind was heading towards a completely black screen. Half way through my sentence, I suddenly had no idea how it ended.

My voice expressed the shattering of my mind by adding an unusual squeaky element to my voice.

And you can listen to the rest of the interview yourself if you want, here it is: http://bit.ly/BBCComedyCafe

 

bbc

 

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10 thoughts on “A little story about my interview with the BBC

  1. Totally get the not racist or sexually deviant comment. I also suffer from social tourettes where the urge to totally destroy my own life for no comprehensible reason has to be aggressively managed. Glad I’m part of an exclusive clique.

  2. Congratulations, Craig! I’m so happy to see you getting the exposure you deserve. Your work is awesome and I can’t wait to see you on late night television interviews—I’m sure you can talk about erections on there ;).

    1. ha, well, this was ages ago. So I’m playing on past glories. It led nowhere. I just realised I’d never blogged about it. Which, well, is a bit silly of me. Quite a random day. But, only a moment. x

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