I did an interview with Oliver Reed 10 years ago for Sky News because he had released a record, appropriately called "Wild Thing". We had the video that went along with it, and while we were playing it, they came in and told us that Reed wasn't coming in to the studio to be interviewed because he was drunk. I told them not to worry. "It'll be fine," I said. "He's always drunk. He's very cool with it." I persuaded them, and they wheeled him in to start answering questions.

It all seemed to be fine, until he looked at me and said, "Do you want to shake your stuff at me, wild thing?" I just looked back at him and continued on, until I heard him say, "Do you have any Irish in you?" He was addressing me. I said, "No, I don't, actually." He replied, "Would you like some?" At this stage, may I add, I was eight months pregnant.

I finally said we should call it a day, and wished him success with the album and so on, but he wouldn't leave. We had to call an emergency break and call security, but he still wouldn't leave. Eventually, I had to leave by a side-door until they got him out of the building. That taught me. Now I know that if someone is drunk, they should be policed.

When I was 17, I was working on my local paper, doing the usual large-marrow and skateboarding-duck stories, when I was dispatched to interview a woman who was 100 and had a telegram from the Queen. I was very excited and under a bit of pressure because the mayor and a photographer were going to be there.

I started off by asking the old woman what the secret of long life was (a glass of sherry a day and no fatty foods) and then I asked, seriously, if she had ever been bedridden.

"Oh yes, dear," she replied. "On the bed, and on the table, and all." She laughed; the mayor didn't know where to look; and I learnt not to assume that old people are predictable.

Interview by Clare Dwyer Hogg