One of the best things floating around on social media in 2018 was a feature from a popular celebrity magazine, that tells you a lot about how modern celebrity works. In it, bafflingly famous reality TV person Gemma Collins sat down with the magazine's journalist to publicise her new book, then is quite spectacularly diva-like; all of which the interviewer lovingly transcribed and published, including interjections from the poor, put-upon PR. It is oddly compelling, and also an insightful look at how the interview process can - and can't - work.

Proper one-on-one interviews can be an awkward social experience at the best of times, for everyone concerned. Hence we at British Comedy Guide do a lot of Q&A features via email these days, a method that used to be a bit of a no-no years ago. Comedians tend to appreciate it though, as it gives them time to come up with something funny, or interesting, or recall anecdotes. And it means that we can post the features online a lot quicker. Still, getting an email interview sorted can also take a fair bit of faffing about beforehand.

We launched a new Q&A slot last year called Random 8, which conjured some epic email threads as we tossed around ideas for the logo. For inspiration for the dice-theme we imagined ourselves to be in Vegas. Or whatever the UK version of Vegas is. Barry Island?

Actually putting the questions together for a Q&A can take a lot more head-scratching than a regular interview. It's a bit like the Martingale roulette strategy according to bestonlinecasinos.org.uk: we had to keep trying to find the perfect balance. Get the wording wrong in person and you can just ask it again; get it wrong in an emailer and you get a one-word answer, and often no way of extending it. Which is tricky, if that was one of the important ones.

Mind you, sometimes you get a whole article full of one-word answers (or near enough), however well thought-out your questions were, if that interviewee clearly had the hump about doing it in the first place. Or those answers never turn up at all, which isn't uncommon, and can be a bit of a gamble in terms of ensuring there's something to publish in the column that week. But then at least you aren't stuck there all morning trying to get through to their on-tour hotel room phone.

So, no, it isn't perfect, but we often find that a written interview works better than a 'real' one, for certain slots. Our First Gig, Worst Gig feature is mostly about remembering gigs, people and places from years ago, which can be tricky when there's a writer sitting there waiting for a response. Lots of painful silences.

It's much better in the comic's own time, from the comfort of their own sofa. And the results can sometimes be sensational, as they vent and reveal at their leisure. Admittedly we do occasionally get a follow-up email the next day, retracting the really juicy bits, but they're fun while they last.

Clicking on that email can be a sort of lower-key comedy equivalent of opening Indiana Jones' lost ark then, or Pulp Fiction's glowing suitcase, or what have you. It might be gold. Or it might be a nasty surprise. Such is life.