One of my favourite things about working at a magazine has to be the unpredictability. There I was last weekend at my first and last ever festival* standing in mud in my wellies and glittery parka, shivering away and miserable as can be, when my phone pinged with this question: ‘are you free to interview Channing Tatum on Monday morning?’ (YES. I. WAS.)
This sort of thing didn’t happen when I worked in an office in the City. Sure, there’d be the odd impromptu pub trip to Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese a whole three streets further that the usual Ye Old White Horse, or a random karaoke session to celebrate some triumph or another, but never was a bonafide A-list hottie involved.
So, Channing. What was he like? Physically, he’s precisely as I imagined him to be; beefy, that special shade of pinky brown I find quite appealing, and a little bit twinkly in the eye. And that twinkle, well, it made me a little big giggly and a lot less professional than I’d have liked to have been. Our videographer very kindly chopped out most the bits where I looked like a total t*t, and the (rather good, if I do say so myself) edit is above, all hail the power of editing.
Speaking of editing, there was none of that on BBC 5 Live, or on Newsnight, but those are two other tales for another day… I’ll leave you to watch the Channing and to swoon your way into the delicious three day weekend…
* I am aware that I am weird and in a minority in disliking festivals. It’s the noise, the excess of people, the loos, the cold. Those things bother me so.