E4 Music:

This blog is essentially like ‘The secret confessions of a call-girl’ but with a lot less emphasis on prostitutes and a lot more emphasis on bands and Hollywood types. Think Anne Frank had she lived in Camden, think Samuel Pepys in skinny jeans. It starts on Monday morning with a clip-board reading: ‘ARMY, POSH, LOTS OF RECORDS’, aka my James Blunt interview.

Monday morning:
As a dishevelled ex-public schoolboy myself, I was of the impression that James Blunt and I would have loads in common, that we’d probably slap each other’s backs, crack a couple of jokes in Latin and then he’d invite me to go grouse hunting on his Hampshire estate. So when he walked straight passed me and started talking to our presenter Rick, I felt affronted and made a mental note not to get so attached to our guests in the future. I tried to interject and talk about Harrow, his old school, but he just ignored me. I changed tack and tried gently singing his new song ‘Carry You Home’ to him, but he just kept staring at Rick, deep in conversation. On the 3rd attempt, my producer turned round, and shouted at me to stop interrupting the interview.

I was glad to be sent back to the office, as it left me more time to concentrate on my Westlife interview.

Tuesday:
A poll in our office reveals that over half of my colleagues would attend my funeral if I died tomorrow, the other 40% dissenters said it depended how far away the church was. It’s nice to feel loved. Blunt calls, I let it go to answerphone.

Thursday:
A band called ‘One Night Only’ drop in to the studio, who are so youthful, they look like their cells have only just divided. The frontman, George, is squeezed into religion-revealing skinny jeans and swaggers around affably recounting tails of hedonism – once they didn’t give their R.E homework in, and talking about their hopes and fears – notably next week’s BCG injections. Incidentally when I had mine done at school, my skin test came up and I presumed I was the new Messiah. Then I was told it was a false alarm. Then I got Tuberculosis.    

Tuesday:
Let’s skip forward in time to the 22nd January, aka Westlife day. I waited for the boys to arrive outside in the car park for three hours in a Leprauchan outfit, River-Dancing to keep myself warm, then I was told it was racist, so I nipped inside to take down the potato sculpture I’d made of them.

Owing to the chequered history between England and Ireland, I (the English oppressor) decided not to appear too controlling and therefore let the boys self-govern and chat amongst themselves – the interview ran over by an hour and an half. Despite this, the boys were on fine form, highlights included the 3 of them (Kian was ill) singing along to ‘This is your Westlife’ theme tune and Shane’s impression of Britney in her video ‘I’m a Slave 4 U’. His undulating bottom touched even the most hardened of cameramen’s loins.

Wednesday:
If there’s one thing I’ve learnt today, it’s that Mary J Blige does NOT like to be called ‘The High Priestess of Soul’, Grimshaw, our presenter, may just as well have called her the ‘Goebbels of R n B’, but she did eventually warm up and when Grim complimented her on her fashion, her expression broke out into a beatific frown.

Friday:
I tried out a sociological experiment where I call all of the men in the office ‘Babes’, and see how they reacted. And just as I expected, the reaction was almost exclusively through the international language of violence.

‘The Feeling’ came in for a chat and to perform their new single ‘I Thought It Was Over’. I don’t think there can be many more dapper bands around than The Feeling, with their emphasis on the winklepicker, the smart/casual jacket and in some cases even the neck-tie. Dapper however clearly translates into commercial success though, as in 2007 they shifted enough records to fill the void where Avril Lavigne’s personality should be (approx 12,450 cubit metres).

The five of them spoke eloquently about The Berlin Wall, moustaches, starting their own cult and sticking their hands up dog’s bottoms (for medical reasons – the dog’s, not their own). When I told them it had been one of the most scatological interviews ever seen on E4, they seemed genuinely pleased.

And so ends the first instalment. If you enjoyed it, check out next week’s thrilling episode, where I’ll be committing untold social faux-pas before some A-List types, and if you didn’t enjoy it, then just bellow your grievances into an envelope and post it to an address of your choice.