"Why are you all dressed up for?" Angus Scott broke off from his lecture with the first years to look at the usually scruffy individual, now stood before him resplendent in a sharp, tailored suit. "I'm presenting today", I replied.
Angus rolled his eyes before returning to his preaching. The man who I'd modelled my presenting outfit on was casting aspersions on my fashion sense? Not the start I needed to what turned out to be a long day. The previous night's early bedtime was abruptly ended by my noisy housemates returning from what sounded like a pretty good night on the tiles.
I sat at one of the computers in the newsroom and logged on wondering what on earth the people in the mock interview were going to ask me. I had only come in early to attend the damn thing otherwise I would most probably have still been in bed! "Oh my god I love your braces!". I whirled round to see two of my colleagues admiring my braces before finding myself having to explain my need for wearing them.
After a while I glanced at my watch to find it was nearly time for my mock interview. I strode into the studio to find only two other people from my class stood there. Nightmare. I'm dressed up to the nines for this and no-one else could be bothered to turn up. What made it worse was the final summing up of my performance in what had appeared to be a very relaxed interview: "your answers were a bit long..."
Around three o'clock I was met by the familiar figure of Brian Thornton. "We've had a bit of a think and have decided we need a wider picture on the election as a whole", he said, running his hand through his hair before bringing it to rest behind his head. He went on to explain his plan about my role before I was to present. "Yeah, sounds pretty good." I told him and began scouring the newspapers before the first rehearsal.
I was hooked up and ready to go to a static talkback system that gave me the movement radius of a whale in a bathtub. The rehearsal started and It wasn't too long before I made my first appearance on camera. "Go Tom" I heard in my ear before coming out with a string of nonsense in order to fill the time. Wow. Felt a bit like being on Sky Sports News. It's unbelievable Jeff...
I could hear people behind me in the newsroom laughing and cracked a smile. A moment later, the main anchor Graham Bell came storming through the newsroom door. "That was brilliant mate! We need to get you on camera more. It's so boring otherwise." I nodded my approval and turned to Brian who's smile confirmed my new role in the grand WINOL election coverage.
It was not until well into the first hour that I made my first appearance. My pre-broadcast bathroom break had disastrous consequences: I'd forgotten to turn my microphone back on. "And now let's cross over to Tom Otrebski who's in our newsroom this evening. Tom how's it looking over there?" came the voice over the talkback. Silence. Goldfishing. Absolute humiliation. "Well we're experiencing a few sound problems there we'll be back over to Tom shortly....".
"F**k! Forgot to turn my mike back on!". I cursed my lack of awareness to the rafters. "Don't swear" came the voice of Chris Horrie over my shoulder. All that time going over the handover in my head beforehand: "Yes thanks Graham, I can tell you one thing for sure. David Cameron is not YET Prime Minister. Gordon Brown is not calling the removal men just yet.". Brilliant stuff. All lost to the sands of time because of a silly mistake with the microphone.
As time wore on I grew more accustomed to my new role and began searching for any nuggets of information I could share with our surprisingly large audience. Queues at polling stations. People being turned away and not allowed to vote. Dynamite stuff! I began waving frantically at the camera to try and attract attention. "Tom's got something to share with us. Do we go over to Tom?" came the director's voice. Excellent. Here we go. To my horror, Graham is describing word-for-word what I was going to say. What am I going to say now? "Thanks Graham....well.....um...just to confirm that people have been turned away from polling stations across the country....".
Before too long the counts began slowly seeping through which thankfully gave me something to talk about. Quick cross-overs, breaking news, crashing into packages - this is more like it. Brown holds onto Kirkcaldy. Before long Cameron holds Witney. Another update was scheduled so I adjusted my earpiece and checked my tie in the window to my left. "Ok guys quiet I'm just about to go back on air" I said to the handful of people in the newsroom. Chris came over with a fistful of papers in his hand. "Right. Ok. Say that Cameron has said..." In my ear I can hear the director telling presenter Claire to cross back over to me. "Um, Chris..maybe in the next update" I interrupted. He nodded and shuffled away managing to hide whether he was disappointed or not.
Later I heard him say "I want to hear from somewhere tonight that the Tories are like a boxer landing blows but not making any knockout blows." I quickly scribbled a note on my muddle of papers and made sure to remember to use it. Sure enough they were back in the newsroom and the cameras were on me yet again. "Well from the counts coming in so far, the Conservatives are like a heavyweight boxer making his long-awaited comback into the ring. They're landing punches left, they're landing punches right but they can't find that knockout blow Graham!"
Cue roars of laughter behind me. I turned my head to find Chris doubled over as he chuckled with a broad smile on his face. He knocked it up and I smashed it back down the line for the winner.
In all the excitement, I seemed to have forgotten that it was nearly four in the morning. I looked at the clock and in one smooth movement my eyes clamped shut. After earlier pouring three cans of Red Bull down my throat I felt like penning an angry letter to the manufacturers there and then. Talk about a baptism of fire. The news that the Winchester count was delayed didn't help things. The declaration was now due around 5am.
Luckily as packages ran out, the more the studio crossed to me which helped keep my mind focused; in some small way, I was glad that outside broadcasts were dropping out on a more regular basis. As a result, the two-ways became much more conversational. During one link I remarked that Swindon South was my home constituency at which point Graham moved the conversation around to ice-hockey and Swindon's least known professional sports team.
As the whole team held their breath for the Winchester seat declaration, I poked my head out of the open window and was met with the dawn chorus. A lovely sound but a stark reminder of how long I had actually been on campus for. I perched on the edge of a seat and realised for the first time how much my feet were aching. Like a poorly made car from the 1970s I seemed to be slowly falling apart piece by piece.
Despite it now being light outside, the way Stuart Appleby described the Winchester declaration was something that will go down in WINOL folklore. "He's won! Brine's won!" came the cry as the massively pixellated image of something that resembled Stuart with a microphone moved around the screen.
The feeling of elation when we finally went off air was indescribable. At last I could start to think about my nice comfortable bed again. After over seven hours of live coverage we had achieved something truly groundbreaking for a student broadcaster. For all the aching and fatigue would I do it again? You bet I would.
Tom Wolfe is someone to whom I owe a lot. Had he not effectively invented the concept of gonzo journalism then Pete Davies would never have written "All Played Out" and I would never have been inspired by its content.
