At a dinner party the other evening I sit next to a young and very attractive lawyer who asks politely (this is Canada, after all) if TV  newsreaders like me need any particular qualifications to read the news.

I blather about four years study at journalism school and years since covering stories as a reporter on radio and TV. And, of course, there's my considerable curiosity, an enquiring mind and an ability to write one word after another in a reasonably coherent fashion.

He listens patiently and when I'd finished asks even more politely "but to read the news you don't have to pass any exams, have a degree or anything like that? Not like a doctor or lawyer? Or plumber?"

"No" I admit "but …"

He interrupts. "And it probably doesn't do any harm that you're gorgeous?" His eyes linger on my cleavage which is particularly spectacular this evening. "And you've got this killer body?"

I laugh nervously. "Thank you, kind sir."

"So actually, anyone who can read English without stumbling or lisping or stuttering or falling down in a dead faint can read the news to me tonight? As long as she or he is good-looking like you?"

"I suppose so but …"

"I mean you don't actually have to know what you're talking about do you? Particularly foreign news? Or financial news? You just have to sound as if you know? Right?"

"Yes, but …"

"Then why should I trust you to tell me what's going on in the world tonight?"

I'm irritated. "Perhaps we could discuss this some other time?" I tell him frostily.

"Your place or mine?"


(Samantha Jones is a Canadian journalist publishing her erotic memoir at www.lulu.com)