JOURNALISM has given me the chance to rub shoulders with the rich and famous, for which I am eternally grateful.
Only yesterday I fielded yet another call from the publicist of hotpants-clad Transylvanian twins, The Cheeky Girls.
The chirpy East European pop stars seem to believe they've found a kindred spirit in Yours Truly, which is strange: I'm neither Transylvanian or wear tight hotpants.
Other than that - and the obvious gender difference - we're like peas in a pod, the publicist assures me.
The girls are about to release a new record, 'Cheeky Racing Car', which looks set to emulate the success of previous smash hits, 'We Are The Cheeky Girls', 'Cheeky Flamenco' and 'Have A Cheeky Christmas'.
"We've rung you first with the news. It's an exclusive," he gushed. "The girls are right here - have a word with them."
"Hello, Mr Mike," they trilled, in heavy accents, down the mouthpiece. "We think you are sooo cheeky, cheeky."
I tried to pin them down on issues of global importance. They felt China's human rights record was 'cheeky' and the hike in fuel prices 'cheeky, cheeky'.
"They're enjoying a traditional English breakfast," confided the publicist. "Ask them how they like their bacon."
"Hello, girls," I bellowed in those laboured tones we English adopt when talking to foreigners, "how do you like your bacon?"
"Streaky, streaky," they giggled.
At long last - stars who don't shy away from those awkward newspaper questions.
