A restless night's sleep, thoughts racing through your mind, sweaty palms and an irrational desire to check the clock can only mean one thing - you're mad.
And yes, the wife has decided I'm clinically insane thanks to my inability to focus on anything beyond 8pm this very evening when Davina (minus bump for once) welcomes in the latest bunch of wannabes.
The squash game has been cancelled, dinner's being made early, the dog's had rohypnol put in her feed (only joking!) and the family have been told unless there's an above 75 per cent chance of death then phoning me post-8pm is out of the question.
I'm even avoided the British Soap Awards on ITV. Now that, my friends, is addiction!