A FACE-TO-FACE meeting with TV's reigning Queen of Mean should come equipped with a government health warning.

Anne Robinson is unquestionably the acid-tongued quiz host she is made out to be and much, much more.

After squaring-up to her as a contestant on the BBC's cult gameshow The Weakest Link it has taken seven months for the scars to heal.

Re-living my verbal whipping as the show was aired on Monday night, I noticed my battle weaponry of witty comebacks and an ice-cool approach evaporated the moment Sergeant Major Robinson strutted into the studio.

The journey began back in May with a train trip from sleepy Wiltshire to Pinewood Studios, near Slough, after coming through a nervy selection procedure at a Bristol hotel.

Given a 6ft-long list of what you could and couldn't wear, contestants need the advice of brutally honest fashion duo Trinny and Susannah before picking an outfit.

Jeans and trainers were out, as were T-shirts, suits, checked shirts and plain colours such as black, brown and navy.

Hailing a taxi from Slough station to the studio's Timekeepers entrance, I began relishing the chance of pitting my wits against the infamous flame-haired journalist.

Walking past the James Bond set

didn't help damp down any delusions of grandeur, as I vowed to adopt a 007-style approach.

Ushered into a back room with eight other contestants, we were given the chance to exchange nervous jokes and get to know each other before we tore each other apart in a quest for cash.

Clothes were approved, and in my case disapproved, before it was into make-up and styling hardly the Max Factor treatment, but enough to conjure up images of star quality.

A brief rundown of the rules was followed by a taste of the action as we piled into a lounge-style set to film the opening credits.

Walking onto the set was like stepping into the TV. My name branded onto a neon-lit podium meant no turning back.

Nerves can hit you like a sack of concrete, but it was more like a skip-full when Anne marched into view. Minutes later, her booming tone dominated proceedings and I was left cowering in fear.

Questions came thick and fast leaving you no time to breathe, with the added dread of Anne whipping in your direction and demanding answers to impossible questions.

I honestly believe humans are not meant to think of three things at once, so concentrating on banking money, answering questions, and surveying which contestant to vote off next is multi-tasking to the extreme.

Starting off cool and calm, my tendency to flap and panic kicked in as the rounds went on and contestants fell by the wayside.

Tactics are impossible to put into practice as any wayward vote can leave you with countless enemies. You vote off the weakest until a glimmer of light appears and the final is in sight, when ruthlessness takes over. Dispatching firefighter Ian in a rather unjust vote, it was myself and singing housewife Debs battling it out in the final.

Trying to evoke a steely, methodical approach, I can safely say I went to pieces. One question away from victory and nerves again got the better of me, despite the fact I had already mentally spent the £2,650 prize money.

I will never live down the fact I thought the River Thames flowed through Stratford. It was quite simply a disastrous end to a glorious run.

Left ruing my missed chances this week, I take heart from the fact I took on one of the toughest quiz shows on the box and gave it my best shot.

Anne quipped in one of her tirades that she had never worked at the Wiltshire Times.

I can safely say I am quite glad she doesn't.