You see I hate flying. I am not a good passenger. Aeroplanes and I are anathema to one another. Before I came to Moscow I could not have taken a kite out for the afternoon on frequent flyer miles. Prior to my twenty-seventh birthday I had taken two return flights and that was more than enough for me thank you very much. Things have changed due the circumstances of my employment for an international news station in such a vast country, but my hackles still rise at the thought of trusting my life and immortal soul (It's so hard to find a good confessional in modern airports, don't you find?)to an enlarged cigar tube navigated by a man in the frankly weird uniform of short sleeves and a tie.

Please spare me the statistics, I have no interest in them. You can prove anything you like with facts, in my opinion. What we are dealing with here is the baseless belief that I am doomed to a slow, and mentally tortuous, death as soon as I walk past the impossibly made up lady who checks the tickets with a joyless smile on her face that is perhaps rendered all the more unbelievable by the fact you know that uniform and those heels are just not in any way comfortable.

The horrors for me begin with the safety demonstration. You see I was carefully brought up and right up there with her sage advice to look both ways before crossing the road and not to trust strangers in dirty macintoshes who offered to show me puppies, mummy told me not to trust people who will tell you bald faced lies while looking you dead in the eye. One may smile, and smile and be a villain, even in silly shoes and an itchy uniform. And so it begins, all that old guff about "In the unlikely event of an emergency landing over water." Oh please!! Have you ever belly flopped into a pool and felt that sharp smack like a child's reprimand hit you across torso from nipples to navel? Yeah? In the unlikely event we hit the water we'll be spread for miles, whether or not I curl up in a little ball. I shall never have the opportunity to tear the slide with my shoes, pop up the air supply in my life jacket or blow that silly little whistle. I'm twenty-eight not eight, lets discuss a plane crash like adults please Miss Stewardess, no sugar with the pill, if you don't mind. I want an airline I can believe in. Should anyone approach me as a media non-entity who would do the job for a bag of crisps and a can of Fanta my own safety announcement would run something as follows:

"In the unlikely event we crash into the sea, (but let's face it if you spin a roulette wheel enough times all the numbers come up once in a while don't they?), then we're all probably going to die. We did our best, but that's life, eh. What can you say? So if we get the nod that we're all about to spin off this mortal coil then we'll be going up and down the aisles as fast as we can throwing items of duty free at you to enjoy, we can take none of it with us, so fill your boots up. While you're at it feel free to smoke, use mobile phones and if you so desire attempt hasty and embarrassment free copulation with the person next to you, no-one will be telling on you now will they?"

At least I would feel that my intelligence, such as it is, was not being insulted.

But anyway. Flying is something I have been doing a lot this month in preparation for our new aviation show. Sergey, our frighteningly good, very persuasive Director, has had me tripping through the clouds in Gyrocopters that look like something the A-team knocked up under the influence of strong and heady liquor, and microlights so tiny and weeny that the little perishers allow you to feel every little puff and whisper of wind like a hurricane buffeting you about the midships. All while filming my terrified reactions so you can titter at the silly little man on the telly imploring God to deliver him from evil.

At times I felt like some harrowing chapters deleted from the Book of Job so as not to scare the Gideons.

Still, it looks like it should be a good watch for you all, and aside from the silly man screaming there are quite a few things you might find interesting if you like flying and such pastimes. Or if you are a sadist who likes to watch real human suffering close up.

I bet you do, you look the type.