It’s probably only about 48 hours in reality, but I don’t feel as though I’ve put the boot into Nick”y” Fucking Campbell for a while now, so here are some of the lowlights of My Life In Media from Monday’s Independent.

What inspired you to embark on a media career?

When we were teenagers, my friend Rob Harley, who now writes The Green Wing [sic], the actor Iain Glen and I used to spend our days “being people” on local radio phone-ins… “Being people” has been for all of us life’s greatest challenge.

Could you drop any more names, you despicable twat?  Shame you can’t get the name of your friend’s programme right, but there you go: Nick”y” has never struck me as much of a details man.  Talking of which…

Describe your job

I am a broadcaster and journalist although my wife Tina, who formally trained as such, has the deluded belief that you need to have reported on tedious court cases and council chambers for at least three years before you can even call yourself one. Sorry, I skipped that bit. I was presenting the Radio 1 Roadshow and Top of the Pops at the time.

Don’t even get me started on that piece of arrogant shite or we’ll be here all day.

At home, what do you tune in to?

Everything. From the Islam Channel to QVC, BBC4 to Sky Travel.

Do you have a favourite magazine?

For sheer entertainment I enjoy The Spectator on a Friday evening with a large gin and a bowl of nuts. Is that just a bit sad?

“The Islam Channel and QVC”?  I mean, for fucksake.  What a colossal pinhead.

Name the one career ambition you want to realise before you retire

To have one of the many songs I’ve written actually recorded by someone.

If you didn’t work in the media, what would you do?

Be a musician or actor.

And there we have it.  Nick”y” Campbell is, at heart, a show-off.  Nick”y” wants to be the centre of attention.  Nick”y” doesn’t mind how he achieves that – the Radio 1 Roadshow, Wheel Of Motherfucking Bastard Fortune, singing on a celebrity talent show or even (Hosting Yet Another Game Show While Describing Yourself As A Journalist Will Haunt You) For The Rest Of Your Life – as long as everybody is looking at him.

Cunt.