Calling the devil at Radio 4

A story about the time I got trapped in a BBC radio studio

Including signs with varying sizes of typeface. Photo by Jose Castillo on Unsplash.

You probably already know this, and are now bellowing, ‘Stop telling us things we already know, Sherine!’ - but in 2008, in a Guardian column, I created the Atheist Bus Campaign. This was an atheist advertising campaign running on British public transport with the slogan, 'There's probably no God. Now stop worrying and enjoy your life.'

The UK campaign was only meant to raise £5,500 over six months, but such was the strength of feeling among atheists, it raised £100,000 in four days and £153,524 in total during the fundraising phase, smashing through the target of £5,500 by 2,791%. It then went global, running in 13 countries around the world, from the US to Germany to Australia.

Because of all this, the press wanted to interview me a lot. One of the keenest outlets was BBC Radio 4, home of regular religious morning slot Thought for the Day. As I wasn't religious, I wasn't allowed to do a proper Thought for the Day, but gave the first atheist Thought for the Afternoon instead a few months later (more about this in a moment). Soon after the bus campaign launch, I was also asked to chat to Edward Stourton on the regular Radio 4 weekend programme Sunday.

Yes, it’s that photo of me and The Dawk again! Photo by Zoe Margolis.

Ironically, I was very bad at taking public transport at the time, as I had experienced severe claustrophobia since being violently attacked and suffocated during pregnancy in 2005. If I was ever trapped somewhere I felt air was restricted, and I couldn't escape, I would quickly start hyperventilating and have a full-on panic attack. This happened most often when Tube trains stopped in a tunnel underground, but it also happened in TV and radio studios, which for obvious reasons either have no windows, or windows that don't open.

The interview on Sunday was arranged for late October 2008. It was to take place remotely in a BBC studio in Weston House in Great Portland Street, London. I was shown into the studio and was told to wait there on my own for a phone call from Edward Stourton. I set my bag down, put the headphones on and waited. And then it occurred to me that I was in a seemingly-airless studio with the door shut.

So I took the headphones off and ran over to the door, expecting to be able to open it easily - but it wouldn't budge. I tugged it hard, but it was so heavy that my brain decided it was locked. And then I started to panic. I was going to die in there with no air. I yelled as loudly as I could, but the security guard who had let me in was gone, and there was no one in sight. Why had they locked the door? Maybe they wanted me to die there. I started screaming and crying and shaking.

Me with Charlie and another friend at my 28th birthday party.

Then I called my friend Charlie Brooker, and told him what was happening. 'I'm locked in a BBC radio studio and am going to die!'