Hopefully my big TV appearance will go better than my last

I AM NOT GOOD IN FRONT OF THE CAMERA. MY FACE SORT OF TAKES ON A LIFE OF ITS OWN AND I END UP MAKING ALL SORTS OF WEIRD GRIMACES

BY the time you read this I will be winging my way across The Atlantic for my first ever live American Broadcast! – Philadelphia Here I Come!

It’s all top secret at the moment, and in reality an awful lot less exciting than it sounds but yes I will be appearing on American TV on St Patrick’s Day. And no I am not the Grand Marshall in the parade! I say it’s my first American broadcast, because I have actually been on Irish television before. And it did not go well. In fact it was an unmitigated disaster so I’m hoping my latest performance will fare a bit better.

You may remember an afternoon show on RTE where they would have regional reporters on a Friday giving a rundown on what was happening in the area for the weekend. They asked me would I do it one week.

My gut instinct told me this was a bad idea. I am not good in front of the camera. Any camera. My face sort of takes on a life of its own and I end up making all sorts of weird grimaces. But my ego told me to go for it. Sure wouldn’t I be mad to miss the opportunity to do live TV?

So I went off and did my hair and make up, came back to studio to discover 10 minutes before I went on air, that the person who’d be interviewing me was a fella I’d shifted in college 20 years earlier!

I nearly had heart failure. I was more worried about having to talk to him than I was about making a fool of myself in front of thousands of people.

Then I thought, maybe he wouldn’t remember me! After all it was only one date after which he ruthlessly dumped me (No I wasn’t bitter!) so chances were he wouldn’t have any recollection.

Unfortunately he did. Two minutes before going live, I put my ear piece in and I heard his voice.

‘Well Justine how’s it goin’? Long time no see? Hahahaha.’ I was absolutely mortified.

I giggled slightly hysterically as they counted me down and then... my mind went blank.

All I can remember is staring robotically at the monitor and nodding my head. I got my script arseways and stuttered my way through an agonising five minute slot. It was the longest five minutes of my life.

Afterwards I heard him through the ear piece saying to the producer ‘Jaysus she was brutal!’

If I hadn’t been so shellshocked I’d have replied, ‘yeah , well you were a sh**e kisser!’

So I’m trying to be positive. This time round couldn’t possibly be as bad as that.

As long as no ex-boyfriends materialise in a television station in Philadelphia I’ll be grand. No really I will be! Happy St Patrick’s Day!