I’m going to be on BBC Breakfast on Friday morning. I have spent the last three weeks on a crash diet because I don’t want to find out that the adage about the camera adding ten pounds is true after the event, when I walk off set and switch on my phone to find a dozen messages from friends telling me how well I looked or asking how far along I am.
Also I’m on a ‘how not to swear on live TV’ crash course. This basically involves me whacking myself in the head every time I swear, which means I now have concussion.
I’m worried I’m going to drop an F bomb on prime time TV and am panicking so much I’m now also worrying that I’ll be so scared of opening my mouth and a fuck coming out that instead I’ll just freeze and stare into the camera like it’s Donald Trump, with a mixture of mute terror and nose-wrinkling loathing.
John and Alula have been trying for years to get me to clean up my act when it comes to my potty mouth, especially in the car. I just can’t help myself though. They once introduced fines. It didn’t work. I ended up hundreds of pounds worse off and swearing even more in annoyance at this fact. Perhaps I need to rig myself up to an electric shocker, like the one they use to train rats, and it can fire ten thousand volts through me every time a swear word passes my lips.
I’m also worried about what to wear and the following questions rattle around my head in an endless loop:
– what if my skirt rides up on national TV?
– what if I flash my knickers?
– what if I forget to wear knickers and unwittingly pull a Sharon Stone (actually that might be quite good for publicity and book sales…or perhaps not…)
– maybe I should wear trousers? (If I do end up wearing trousers you can smile at the screen and nod to yourself because you know this fear has won out).
– where do I look? Into the camera or at the interviewer?
– what are the chances my mum will phone up straight after and tell me I need a hair cut?
– should I get a hair cut?
– what if I forget to turn off my phone?
– Venus is retrograde I shouldn’t get a haircut.
– what if I trip over the camera cable on the way into the studio and stagger, arms pedalling madly in the air like a drowning person, before falling over face first like I did when I was 9 in a stage adaptation of The Hobbit, only this time not in front of an audience of 300 but ON LIVE TV in front of an audience of MILLIONS?
– what if people from my past, like ex-boyfriends, see me?
– what if ex-boyfriends see me and think ‘god, what happened to her? What is she wearing?’
– what if I swear?
Honestly, it’s so stressful. How do celebrities do it every day? And then I realise I haven’t even started worrying about what I’m actually going to say. Oh god.