This morning I am up very early. I would normally start my day about 9.30am, but today I am going to be interviewed on television. Business news programmes are all on early and I need to be at the studio at 7.30am.

 

I have been on television only once before and I am very excited about being invited back, mainly because I thought I made a complete fool of myself last time. If they want me back, then I can't have been that bad.

 

So this is how it went last time. I arrive late, and I have no time to collect my thoughts or relax. I am rushed straight into a dark and quiet studio.

Right in front of me there is a huge TV camera with a big black lens, ready to absorb my every flaw, every hair out of place and every twitch or strange mannerism I can't keep under control. To my left are three television screens, which I understand are called "monitors" if you are in the industry. On one is a picture of the anchors, who are in another country. On another is a picture of what is going out live. This screen is currently playing an advertisement. And on the third is a picture of what the camera in front of me is recording - i.e., it is completely filled with my head.

While I am sitting there on my own trying to take it all in, somebody puts something in my ear and I can suddenly hear what the anchors are saying. As it is currently an ad break, they are chatting with each other about a restaurant that one of them went to last night. I look at them, thinking: "How on Earth can they be so relaxed? Don't they realise they're going to be on TV in about 20 seconds? Why aren't they paralysed with fear like I am?"

Then out of nowhere I hear: "Do we have Alan Alanson on? Alan, are you ready to go?" For a moment I am completely lost, wondering who is talking to me. The people on the monitor aren't even looking my way. I come to my senses and realise they can't see out of the TV.

"Yes. Hi. Umm, over here." I wave at the camera, and immediately feel like a complete idiot.

"Great. We're on in about 10, you ready to go?"

"Sure. Thanks." This time I keep my hands still. Then I remember my media training and ask: "So, what is your first question?" There, now I sound a little bit more professional.

"I'm going to ask you to comment on oil prices, and then we'll lead into Chinese economic growth."

I stammer: "Umm, I'm not sure I'm the best person to comment on oil prices." But they have lost interest in the conversation. The advertisement has finished and they're talking live to air about what is coming up. Then in an instant I am on.

When you are on TV, your mannerisms become very obvious to the viewer. If you blink, twitch or move at all it looks 10 times bigger on the screen. I was keenly aware of this when I made my first appearance and so I made a big effort to keep as still as possible. Unfortunately, I was far too successful. I showed no emotion at all, stared like a madman at the camera without blinking, and hardly opened my mouth when speaking. When I watched it back, I was reminded of those old cartoons where only the lips are animated and the rest of the face looks like a photograph. That was me the first time.

So this time I am determined that I can do a better job. There were no adverse effects from my last performance. I never received any hate mail. People on the street weren't pointing at me and laughing. So I'm feeling a bit more relaxed this time - I can only get better, and if I don't, well, it's not the end of the world.

This time I am in the same studio as the anchors. They are very friendly when I arrive and welcome me back like an old pro at this interview thing. I feel pretty flattered and immediately at ease. The interview goes very smoothly, I come up with some intelligent answers, don't stutter or mumble and even make a joke at the end that everyone laughs at. Everyone in the studio, that is - i.e., me and the anchors, although I am sure the viewing public will have laughed, too.

On my walk back to the office I start thinking about how easy this TV thing is. Nothing to it. Perhaps it could be a new career for me. By coincidence I get into the lift with our head of communications.

"Pretty good, eh!" I smile at her.

"Well ..." She looks a little uncomfortable and she's not looking me in the eye.

"You didn't see my interview?" I ask, assuming that's the reason she's embarrassed.

She then proceeds to burst my bubble with three words: "You were swivelling."

I was sitting in a swivel chair during the interview. Seems I was so relaxed that I was swivelling back and forth without even realising it. If you think facial expressions look big on TV, they've got nothing on a guy swivelling around in his chair like a toddler while he is trying to sound serious.

I could not have looked more ridiculous, as I confirm later in the day when I watch the tape.

So that's it for me and TV. In just two interviews I've gone from far too nervous to far too relaxed, while maintaining the same level of embarrassment. I certainly won't be asked back again. But then again, maybe they'll give me one last shot - this time I'm sure I'll nail it!