I've done many risky things during my years of traveling around the globe: unwittingly worked near a Black Widow spider in Mexico and walked in downtown Las Vegas and LA late at night, to name but a few. But never before has my life been so at risk as when I dared to interrupt Marty McCool's Tom Cruise Weekend on TV.

To say Marty is Tom Cruise's number one fan would be a huge understatement. In fact, Marty's adoration of the man and his acting goes so far as to make him believe that he actually looks like Tom Cruise. This belief has been promoted by himself so much so that the people of Wexford are actually starting to call him Tom. In fact, there are people in Wexford who don't even know his real name.

My near-death experience came one night when Marty was engrossed in the last of the Tom Cruise trilogy being shown on TV3. Now, this is the man who religiously watches Born on the Fourth of July every week, so it really wouldn't be wise to interrupt him now. Marty was already annoyed that he was on reception duty at Kirwan House this particular evening, and that people were having the audacity to phone up or arrive at the door during this time. As I watched the ever growing frustration on Marty's face my sardonic sense of humour reared its ugly head and I hatched a nasty thought.

As Nika and I went out for a drink I just couldn't resist the temptation to ring the doorbell. Fortunately I was halfway down the street when Marty appeared at the front door and realised it was me.

Thankfully Marty must have realised in the nick of time that to run down the road and plant a fist in my face would only result in more lost viewing time of Mr Cruise. Thus he simply yelled a few unsavoury words and returned to the TV room, leaving my nose and, most importantly, our friendship well and truly intact.