Or maybe as Matt Dawson was saying on the radio earlier, it's like having your bare bum spanked with a cactus (good to hear what rugby players get up to on tour).
To be honest, I had no absolutely no idea what to expect when I made the move to Peterborough to embark on my new glamorous life (ahem).
Dictaphone in one hand, notepad in the other, a brand new suit and shoes to show off, a Don Bradman biography on my bedside table and the joys of a League One football side not far from my front door, I honestly assumed this is how Matthew McConaughey must feel on the red carpet. How could it get any better unless Taylor Swift knocked on my front door one night seeking a place to stay?
Sure, I had moved to a new city which I knew nothing about and would be covering stories I had never even thought about writing before.
But I was fully trained up, eager to make a good impression and would surely uncover some huge scandal in my first month which would lead to me being hailed as the greatest trainee journalist in the history of local newspapers and being coveted by the big beasts in the media. And The Guardian.
This wasn't because I was arrogant. I mean, I make Ed Miliband look confident and assured. I just figured my time as an Inbetweeners lookalike was over and that this was my moment to shine.
Considering that in my last job I used to fumble about for an hour with a massive hot dog (not a euphemism) before serving it to customers (definitely not a euphemism - please don't report me) I figured being paid to write would be fairly straight-forward.
Yeah, about that.
It didn't help that the only thing I knew about Peterborough was the football team. It was suggested to me before moving by other people with a similar knowledge of Peterborough that I would be interviewing their chairman Darragh MacAnthony every week because, let's face it, who else was there? Nevermind that I wasn't actually covering sport.
Having found a flat, moved my stuff across, reluctantly splashed out on expanding my wardrobe and began sorting out the 3,000 different bills and taxes which would be coming out of my account, it was time to actually see whether the years of research, unpaid internships, fairly expensive (albeit worthwhile) training and fruitless job applications would not be a complete waste of time and money.
The experience has certainly lived up to my hope that journalism would keep life interesting. I've covered big stories on crime, the NHS and the council's budget.
I've had people in tears after hearing how their son died, been threatened after knocking on doors and spoken to people who were expected to die very soon yet were still doing their best to raise money for charity.
And not to mention a Pizza Express review in the newspaper going viral which was beyond surreal. "Hello I'm calling from the Mirror," was the first call as fellow news-hungry journalists tried to get hold of the work experience girl who had written the review.
Then it was the Sunday Times, followed by a call from the Radio 4 Today programme. Surprisingly, they were not interested in my thoughts on European Tour golf or cricketers of the 1930s (not sure why I bought that Bradman book now) but wanted to know more about Pizza Express.
To be honest, I would be lying to say I didn't feel like David Moyes at Manchester United at times.
Everything I had done previously had been geared towards sport. Ever since I used to watch every Forest home game and attempt to take them to Premier League glory on Championship Manager as it called was back then. And of course the many hours with bat and ball at the glorious Trent Bridge, the home of cricket.
Now I go to planning meetings and write about fly-tipping. And weirdly, I even have my own work Twitter handle although I still have about 20 followers. Justin Bieber better watch out, I'll be overtaking him soon.
For people interested in what it's like in the newsroom and writing for a living, it is rarely boring. You can be trying to balance several stories at the same time, you're on the phone trying to take down quotes with shorthand from people speaking at what feels like 300 words per minute and you're always dealing with media officers. Every company, no matter how small, uses at least one.
But more importantly, I get to suit up every day and dress like my hero Louis Litt.
All I would say to people who think newspapers just make things up or hack people's phones, we are the ones who stand up for the public, ask the questions they cannot and make sure they are informed.
You really witness all the emotions in this job. You see so many great charity acts which inspire you then you hear about such despicable crime which leaves you cold.
You really have to try and be an expert on all matters, be comfortable adapting between print and online, and find time to get your stories written in between answering long phone calls, wading through emails, checking Twitter and eating, which for me is a constant event.
But at the end of the day, it doesn't get much better than seeing your byline on a Thursday throughout the paper. And if you've got the splash on the front page it's even better. Now it's all about working my way on to Question Time.
Anyway, that's enough of the whistle-stop description on what I'm sure you've decided is my extremely exciting life.
What can I say, I didn't choose the thug life, it chose me.
All I would say is I've learnt how important it is to enjoy your time off as much as possible and how I pay far too many bills. Which is why I have spent most of this week watching cricket, listening to Taylor Swift and sending lots of snapchats.
But seriously, when I check my bank balance a few days before pay day it's not a pretty site.
Still, having slunked back into my flat on many evenings wondering when someone will politely tell me that this job is not for me and that I've wasted the last five years of my life trying to get into this industry, you realise you enjoy the unpredictability of the work, the pressure and, fortunately for me, the colleagues.
It all means it's not normally too difficult to force myself into the office on a Monday morning and often I've found myself excited to get in there and see what's kicking off whilst enjoying some top, top banter. Naturally.
On top of that, being able to freelance on Saturdays at football grounds is a very good way to earn a few extra quid. And hearing some of the dull quotes managers at times come out with makes you realise that filling in the back pages might not be as good as getting stuck into the front.
Oh well, big up the Peterborough massive, and if you're reading this Fraser Kesteven (Kimsteven)
