So Micky went on radio to say that Bobby Zamora is worthless. He knew what he meant and so did we.

It didn't matter. The affliction of Public Speaking Disorder is more widely understood these days.

Talking normally involves opening your mouth and letting words fall out. Like walking across a very deep crevasse on a very narrow girder it is one of those things best done without thought. Rehearse and you're in trouble. That's what Micky discovered and I sympathise with him.

They say things come in threes. I hope it's true because I have been on the telly three times, all in one of the Albion war years, and wouldn't mind it not happening again.

The first time was at a studio documentary cobbled together by Meridian the day after Fans United. On the way down to Southampton I prepared the most devastating critique of Archer and Bellotti and later delivered it, word-perfect. Very much later in fact, to myself, on the coach home to Brighton. Throughout the actual programme I just sat pinkly at the end of a row, struck mute by the appearance of Bellotti, and Archer with an eyepatch. Given that I didn't make a prat of myself, I shall claim this appearance to be a draw.

I took a more active role the second time. It was after the Leyton Orient match at the Goldstone, the one where some oik tried to upend Ray Wilkins, and indeed succeeded. Afterwards, a clutch of us went along to Carlton TV's studios for a live debate with Richard Littlejohn, a panel of sports celebs and some red and white stripy people from E10.

My office was just round the corner from the studios and what with it being a very long day I hadn't even thought about what I was going to say until Littlejohn asked me, on air, to describe the Disgraceful Pitch Riot at Crisis Club Brighton. My complete lack of rehearsal explains an unstoppable outburst on my part. I out-shot Phil Tufnell and argued with Littlejohn himself. It went terribly well and I think they had to turn off a microphone to stop me. I reckon I won that fixture. So, one draw, one win. And, unfortunately, one to go.

My final appearance embarrassed me for several reasons, the main one being that I could think of at least 500 loyal Albion supporters more qualified than I to appear on Football Focus (Gary Lineker, for heaven's sake!) before the Hereford game of blessed memory.

I found out about an hour before we arrived in Hereford that the famous Albion personalities who were going to appear had to drop out and, having learnt nothing from my previous TV effort, spent the time available to me meticulously rehearsing.

All occasional public speakers - best men, for example, - know what happens when you over-rehearse. A strange phenomenon presents itself. You actually hear your own voice as you speak. It sounds hollow and thin but it's definitely yours. You don't know whether to listen or talk.

At a bit gone four on that famous afternoon Craig Maskell let go a belter that hit a post and rebounded to Robbie Reinelt. Three hours before that I found myself on surely the exact spot that Maskell was standing on when he started to rewrite history.

Next to me was a man with one of those furry caterpillar things that TV people wave at interviewees. I listened to someone saying that the Albion definitely wouldn't be going to Gillingham, realised it was me and then kind of petered out.

So of course I have sympathy for Micky. And also for Ian Hart, who on Tuesday night said this: "Rome wasn't built in a day and Falmer won't be built." It wasn't exactly what he meant but with radio you get only one chance. Three cheers to him for ploughing relentlessly on, and another three for Micky, who I suspect loathes public speaking even more than he loves private talking. They have to do it. I don't.