Andrew Arbuckle: Danger lurks round every corner but not in interviews

Over the years, I have interviewed a few politicians, who are nowadays all trained in the art of avoiding answering difficult questions. They all have their own techniques.

When the BSE crisis was at its height and the export barriers were being put in place, it coincided with the UK's presidency of the European Union. There was a meeting of the agricultural ministers held in Newcastle.

Germany was leading the race in barrier erection and so we asked the German minister a really tricky question on his motives. We knew he spoke very good English as he had earlier addressed the meeting in that language.

However, his response to the tricky question was in fluent German. That was the first and so far only time I have regretted abandoning German classes at school.

On another occasion I interviewed the Japanese minister for fisheries on his country's whaling policy. Between us we had about 12 words in common; six Japanese and the same number of English and so an interpreter was used.

Stating the obvious, this extra translating loop removed any edge or sharpness in the interview. He was flanked by at least a dozen civil servants, so I was already somewhat outmanoeuvred.

The best interviews are on a one-to-one basis as a strong focus can be brought to bear on the subject or the person. The worst ones occur where a mob of hacks are shouting questions and the interviewee can pick and chose knowing from where the patsy questions will come.

This past week I was involved in a one-to-one interview with a health and safety inspector and as usual I had thought out a number of questions

Before I had even started, he pointed out the number of farm accidents that involved vehicles. To illustrate the point, he showed a slide or two of tractors couped over on their side.

It brought back memories of a time when I was driving a berry tractor and during a turn on the headland I had underestimated where the centre of gravity was and it just quietly tipped over with me clinging to the steering wheel.I also thought of the Massey 1200 that we had on the farm and its propensity to keel over and lie like a wounded elephant at the slightest opportunity.

By this time, the inspector was talking about the dangers of overhead power cables and my mind went back to the time when our Danish student - who, much to the merriment of the rest of the farm staff - wore clogs touched the power cables with the irrigator. No other person was there to verify the student's story but the jolt of electricity going through the tractor was enough, in his words, to "the tyres they are blown off." If he had not worn clogs, he too would have been blown off.

During the interview I expected a photo of a power take off (PTO) shaft without a proper guard and sure enough the inspector had one in his list.

He commented that a 540 revs per minute shaft rotated nine times per second and anyone catching their sleeve in such a turning shaft was lucky if he just lost a limb but he was more likely to lose his life.

My mind went back to those I knew and those who had died in such an incident. Every farmer will know of someone who has ended his life wrapped round a PTO shaft.

Now in his stride, the inspector showed a slide or two of ladders against buildings, ladders propped on pallets hoisted up on the forks of a fork lift helping reach the asbestos roofs where the gutters needed cleaning.

I remember doing that and told the inspector so.

He then showed a photo of an electric plug where the fuse had been taken out and replaced with a bolt. A million volt bolt I think he called it. I told him I had never used a bolt because I found cutting a six inch nail to suit ensured no fuse was ever blown.

Interviews can be revealing, interesting, compelling but they are never dangerous.

Farming is dangerous.