FRONT

My first lot of work experience was at the alternative men's mag FRONT.

I absolutely adore the big smoke (something only small town folk are allowed to label it). I sold a liver to afford to commute and roughly had three hours 45 minutes sleep that week.

FRONT had warned me the place was hard to find, and Google Maps supported that it was in fact..in.the.middle.of.nowhere. Just as I found the street the heavens opened. Needless to say that the Monday presented me as a drowned rat, bright red cheeks, squelchy shoes and frizz. Oh so cool. However, I had doughnuts so this seemed to distract the lads for a good ten minutes...

The office was really cool and situated on the top floor of a warehouse, plastered with posters, photos and generally intriguing, er, shite?

I was plonked down, given a few mags and basically told to get on with the FAQ's, right in at the deep end. SINK OR SWIM.

Because the magazine cover with such hard-hitting features I had to research if drinking a pint of wee was healthy. how many times you can legally drive round a roundabout and how many types of urine is usually found on pub peanuts. Needless to say the gentleman at the DSA was wheezing with laughter. Right, maybe should have sent an e-mail..

On the up side I managed to blag the office 8 litres of gin and got to listen to an interview with Frankmusik, he used to keep dead rabbits in his fridge apparently....

I had one of the most eye opening weeks and now know what the pace of a real monthly mag is like! Sadly no models walking around, clebs popping in for a cuppa tea...but I'll take all my weaknesses and put them right for the next time around.

PRO: Only managed to spill one thing.

CON: It was in front of the whole office and they proceeded slowly clapping. Boys do indeed smell.