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Friday, December 21, 2007

Kerrang!You know what it's like. You get up on a Thursday morning, make a cup of tea, check your e-mails, and find one inviting you to be a guest on a national radio show at 10pm that evening. We've all been there.

I received an e-mail yesterday sent at 1:45am on Wednesday night from the senior producer of 'The Night Before' with Nick Margerrison, a late-night phone-in show on Kerrang! Radio in Birmingham. He said this:

"Possibly the greatest thing I HAVE EVER SEEN!!! (the above message system I mean)".

He's talking about the Phil-Mail-o-Matic. And frankly he needs to get out more. But that's not why he got in touch. Having introduced himself, the man went on to say this:

"I want to invite you to be a guest on the show TONIGHT (Thursday night). For various reasons which I'd love to talk to you about properly over the phone. Please could you urgently send me your telephone number and we shall chat about your involvement with the show."

Yes indeed. On Tuesday night they had David Icke, Wednesday they had Peter Tatchell, and on Thursday they wanted... um... me. And people say broadcasting standards are declining.

The subject of my guest spot wasn't revealed, but fortunately I have software which tracks my visitors more closely than David Icke tracks aliens, so I happen to know that he arrived via my Telly Critic blog, having searched Google for a "television critic". He obviously took one look at the site, realised I was cheap, available and will say yes to anything, and promptly got in touch.

So with the opportunity to upset people on a much grander scale, I naturally jumped at the chance, e-mailed them straight back with my phone number, and waited. And waited. And then waited some more. And...

They never called. Or e-mailed. Thirteen hours spent sitting by the phone in a state of high alert, mentally preparing my theory on X Factor as a form of care in the community, and it was all for nothing.

What a Carrie on.I listened to the show, and the subject of the first hour was a debate on the social evils of reality TV, featuring not me, but Carrie Grant, the vocal coach from Fame Academy, plus some bloke who was voted off last year's X Factor. Although he wasn't so much a guest as a caller.

So there you have it. I've missed out on a shot at national fame thanks to the winner of Safari School and the woman who taught Take That to sing. I can't believe she was cheaper than me.