During my 49 often-not-particularly-interesting years, I've met some quite well-known people. I have snogged Dana, got up on stage with the Boomtown Rats, been told by Sid Vicious to "f___ off," brushed up against Rick Wakeman's arse, known John Creedon and am on friendly terms with Joan Burton.
However, none of these compares with my experience yesterday evening when I was interviewed by Niamh Bagnell (above) before she became an institution on the national airwaves.
Niamh, who blogs here, presents a weekly Sunday afternoon writers' show on Liffey Sound FM called Sunday Scrapbook. She has interviewed some great poets and writers in her time so she must have had a rush of blood to her head when she decided to invite me. Doubtless she's regretting it now.
How did it go? Well, despite being her only guest who ever forgot the music they were supposed to bring along, despite the fact that I got hot and flustered and couldn't remember the brilliant answers I had planned in advance and just waffled inanely or tailed off halfway through sentences, despite the fact I used an 'anal' and a 'fecking' and despite the fact that I could barely string two words together, I think it went pretty well!
Niamh will have her work cut out trying to edit my gibberish into a coherent programme, to be broadcast this Sunday 4pm - 5pm. The upside is, I will probably merit a place in her autobiography when she becomes a national treasure...