Armando Iannucci

And then my stomach dropped when I realised the journalist I was with had been speaking to me for about seven minutes. This meant that in those precious few moments I had with her, I'd possibly told her the same story twice. I tried not to look nervous at this point, in case she took the rictus grin on my face to mean I was having a massive stroke alongside a serious mental condition. Instead, I changed the anecdote mid-course, and brought it safely home to another conclusion.

As the journalist left, I was satisfied I'd knocked on the head any suspicions of senility. Alas, I couldn't tell whether this outweighed the disadvantages of leaving her with the impression that, as a wit and raconteur, I was no more dexterous than a blabbering gibbon.

At times, doing a publicity campaign gave me an inkling of what it must be like being a politician on the eve of an election. You work hard getting your message across, you smile at a lot of people you've never met, and, in the end, your fate is determined by the public. That last realisation is frightening but also humbling. There's something proper in the fact that someone like me can shout all he wants but no amount of publicity is going to stop you doing what you want, even if what you want is just to turn me off.

One other political parallel is that I ended up canvassing for In The Loop in places I wouldn't normally go. On Kerrang! Radio, for example. I did at one point come dangerously close to appearing on Loose Women and I did a stint on The Wright Stuff discussing corporal punishment with Terry Christian. Most bizarre was suddenly doing a whole round of breakfast news interviews last week, when the Damian McBride Number Ten Smeargate scandal broke.

Since In the Loop is about a Prime Minister's spin doctor spinning out of control, it was deemed by the national news networks that my premonition of reality qualified me to be asked on to the news for comment. I found myself sitting opposite Evan Davis at 8am discussing civil service reform.

Also in the studio was Nadine Dorries, the Conservative MP who was a victim of one of McBride's smears and then recipient of a handwritten letter from Gordon Brown sort of apologising for it all. After Today we both found ourselves heading for Nicky Campbell's booth on Radio 5 Live. It turned out I was doing the same media circuit as she was. Afterwards, she showed me the letter, written in Brown's big, bold marker pen. Two worlds collided at that moment: showbiz met politics. Just as instantly, Nadine was bustled away by her minders, and whisked off to Channel 4. As she darted round London's media in a flash car, and I went off to do a phone-in about MPs expenses, I wondered who was in politics, and who in showbiz.

Doing a non-stop public circuit is fun, but exhausting. Unlike a politician in power, though, I get to stop. Those in electoral office are asked to keep going, day and night, for no glory, much criticism, and absolutely no fun on expenses. Is it any wonder, then, that the world is close to collapse?

We put all the vital decisions in the hands of a few people who are far too tired to make those decisions. I've come to realise the country would be better run if, instead of demanding inquiries of MPs' second homes or investigations into their private life, we brought in legislation to make it mandatory they just worked nine to five. The country would be in the hands of people with healthy bodies and minds, though it would also be very, very boring. Still, I'd rather have Switzerland than Armageddon.

In the Loop is in cinemas now