Interviewing is a lot like dating: I speak as a veteran of conducting them on my morning radio show on LBC for more than 20 years (interviews that is, not dates). Virtually all of them, for better or worse, have been with politicians.

But, as an interviewer, I have plenty of form, as they say in criminal and horseracing circles. Before that, as the showbusiness reporter on The Sun, I interviewed everyone from Boy George and David Bowie to Dean Martin and Sophia Loren.

Just like going on a date, you often have no idea things are going well for you until that vital moment: they suddenly come up with the goods, or crash down with obfuscation, burbling nonsense, attempted deceit, utterly incompetent ignorance, or a nasty case of the sweats (of the kind unknown to Prince Andrew).

As we move into an age where 24-hour media, podcasts and even “citizen journalism” are all the rage, it occurred to me that I might take a brief trip down memory lane and serve up “Six of the Best” interviews I’ve conducted.

And (cue the haunting strains of Ennio Morricone) I will let you, the reader, decide what constitutes The Good, The Bad and The Ugly.

Time to suspend your particular views of Bojo and what his skillset might (or might not) be, because he can be an interviewer’s dream.

I’ve done phone-ins with him since he was just a candidate to be Mayor of London, long before he became Prime Minister, and nothing has changed over the years. His grasp of detail is still akin to that of a three-month old with a dummy, but somehow, with his unique bumbling bombast, he carries it off.

For example, after he was elected as Mayor of London, I challenged him about rising fares on public transport. The question was simple.

“Mr. Mayor. Suppose you’ve left your Oyster card in a suit that’s gone to the dry cleaners. You have to get from your home near Regent’s Park to your office at City Hall. How much will the fare be?”

After much hesitation and harrumphing, the man ultimately in control of Transport for London had to concede: “All right Nick, sitting there like some big Buddha of wisdom, I don’t know. What is it?”

When I told him he’d get little change from three quid he was appalled, and immediately asked me “Dear God – who sets these prices?”

“Mr. Mayor,” I replied, “that would be you.”

The Guardian’s skilled sketch writer John Crace once declared “never let it be said that a half-hour phone-in with Nigel Farage on Nick Ferrari’s morning show is anything but educational.” John was, as usual, spot on.

Listeners love him because he is unlike almost every other politician on the planet. Ask him a question, and you will get an answer. I know, it’s a unique concept! But that can also get him into trouble.

After US President Donald Trump stunned the world with his assertion that migrants were “eating the dogs, the people that came in, they’re eating the cats” in Springfield, Ohio, I had a £10 bet with Mr. Farage that the claim would turn out to be utterly bogus.

After a suitable time (twelve months) I decided to call in the bet and ask Nigel for my tenner.

What happened next dominated the headlines, and had reporters despatched to parks and lakes up and down the land. Why? Because his response was to say that it wasn’t such a bizarre claim.

“If I said to you that swans were being eaten in Royal Parks in this country, that carp were being taken out of ponds and eaten in this country by people who come from different cultures…what would you say?” asked Mr. Farage.

Cue reporters from many broadcast and print organisations fanning out to launch investigations in parks and around lakes. The debate still rages on social media to this day, with claims of swans being eaten in Lancashire and carp being cooked in East London, but what is the truth? Who knows. But next time you see Nigel, ask him for my tenner.

From a man who, if the polls are right, could be our next Prime Minister to a man who actually is... currently, at least. While in opposition, Sir Keir faced many accusations of “going woke” amid decisions such as taking the knee in his office and supporting many liberal causes and campaigns.

And after he’d said that “99.9 per cent of women can’t have a penis,” I decided to challenge him. Here's what happened next.

“So if it’s 99.9 per cent, that means one in one thousand women can have a penis. Seriously, Sir Keir?”

“Look, I want to tackle this head on. For the vast, vast majority of women, they obviously cannot have a penis, but …”

I was incredulous. “But one in a thousand can?”

“Look…I’m not…I don’t think we can discuss this…er...”

I apologised if I had embarrassed him in some way.

He was flailing. “No, no, no, no, it’s just …”

I restated my question. “Well, it’s just... can a woman have a penis?”

There never was an answer and instead he took us into the area of biology and something about women “smashing glass ceilings”, but I will let you know if he gets back to me.

Here, we revisit the 2015 General Election, and the launch of the Green Party’s manifesto. That morning, party leader Natalie Bennett came on the show to herald her party’s good work. After some meaningless waffle about electoral priorities, it was time to get down to specifics. I started by asking her about her party’s housing policies.

“We want to ensure everyone has a secure, affordable place to live and we will build 500,000 new social homes,” she told me.

More incredulity on my behalf. “Good Lord! Where will you get the money for that?”

“We’ll abolish mortgage relief for private landlords.”

“And how much will that be worth?”

“Well…it’s a part of our total costings.”

I had to press her on that. “Ok, but can I get the precise cost of 500,000 homes?”

A long pause and much paper-shuffling ensued. “Erm, er, well, it’ll be spelt out later.”

“You don’t know, do you, Ms. Bennett?”

“We’re looking at a total spend of £2.7 billion.”

I did a rough calculation in my head. “What! 500,000 homes for £2.7 billion? What are they made of? Plywood?”

She tried to stick to her guns. “We’re looking at a cost of £60,000 per home.”

I was unconvinced, to put it mildly. “Obviously that can’t include the land, and £60,000 is not much more than a large conservatory with bifold doors!”

Unfortunately, Ms. (now Baroness) Bennett started coughing continuously, and the interview (which she subsequently labelled “excruciatingly awful”) pretty much ended. The Greens returned just one MP at that election, and their total number of votes amounted to less than a third of UKIP’s.

Undoubtedly one of the most skilled communicators in recent governments, you immediately knew it was a tough day for the government during the Coronavirus pandemic five years ago if “The Govester” was wheeled out for a round of interviews.

One such day resulted from utter confusion (but was there ever anything else?) about exactly what constituted a proper meal and would therefore allow you to go to a restaurant or pub to meet with friends.

To this day, I don’t know where the idea of a scotch egg came from, but I decided to test this particular dish on Mr. Gove and ask him whether that constituted a meal. His reply was he “would definitely scoff two scotch eggs as a starter, but it’s not a main course.”

This appeared to be totally contrary to government policy. So, within an hour, and after having scotch eggs waved at him by Piers Morgan on TV, Mr. Gove had decreed scotch eggs to be a “substantial meal”.

The following day’s newspaper cartoon showing Mr. Gove with two scotch eggs in place of his eyes still hangs in my hallway.

I have saved the best (or maybe the worst) interview until last, and it is the one I am reminded about most often.

We go back to the 2017 General Election and – as this painful exchange went on for around four minutes – I will focus on the part that is recycled endlessly on TV clip shows.

As Shadow Home Secretary, Ms. Abbott was on to say a Labour government, if elected, would recruit an additional 10,000 police officers. Squeamish readers, look away.

I started by asking her how much 10,000 police officers would cost.

“Well, umm, err, if we recruit them over a four-year period, we believe it will be about £300,000.”

This clearly needed challenging. “£300,000 for 10,000 officers! What are you paying them?”

“No, I’m sorry, I mean, umm, er…”

I repeated the question. She was floundering.

“They will cost, they will cost, umm, er…it will cost about £80 million.”