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The next morning I realised, with some despondency, that the notes I had excitedly scribbled down later that night were completely illegible. And all I could remember in the harsh light of the morning after, as I soaked my throbbing head in the shower, was having my hand kissed tenderly by Jacques Chirac, being told not to ask “damn fool questions” by Prince Philip, laughing a lot and drinking some of the best champagne I’d ever tasted.

Caroline Wyatt

Which contradicts another piece of advice: the thing about the shoes. One morning, I’d been asked to doorstep the then German Chancellor Helmut Kohl about a CDU party financial scandal. Shouting questions from behind the barriers as he went into a meeting proved ineffective. There was only one thing for it – to stand in his way as he left the meeting, so he couldn’t ignore the 大象传媒 microphone.

The theory was brilliant. The reality, less so. As Helmut Kohl left the meeting, I stood in his way, brandishing a small microphone. After a few seconds, I realised the flaw in my plan. All 1.93m (6 foot 4 inches) and 120kgs (19 stone) of German Chancellor was bearing down on me. The father of unification was not going to stop for a mere journalist. Slowly, and with the same determination he’d used to stay in power for 16 years, he continued inexorably ahead. Just as his foot began to press down on mine, Kohl’s security guards sized up the situation and hoisted me out of harm's way, seizing one arm each, my legs scrabbling in the air like an upturned beetle. Thanks to my sensible shoes, I escaped with only a little light bruising to my big toe, and quite lot more to my dignity.

Never be afraid of earning your driver’s contempt by asking to slow down.

Tim on location in Norway

For years I hung on for dear life in cars hurtling at impossibly fast speeds along bumpy, twisty roads in remote parts of the world, with drivers who regarded any attempt to put on a seatbelt as an insult to their skill and integrity – and who I feared would be infuriated by any request to ease off on the accelerator. Now I insist on slowing down – and happily pay the price by laughing at myself: one of those cowardly Brits. It’s worth it. I’m convinced now that death on the road is actually the greatest potential danger I face as a foreign correspondent – and sometimes being assertive in the car actually leads into interesting conversations.

And... always say you smoke, even if you don’t. I missed so many chances to leave larger meetings for discreet one-to-one tip-offs outside before I realised that an invitation to go for a cigarette is often worth taking up, even if you don’t smoke. If you can’t actually face lighting up when you are alone with the person you most wanted to talk to, you can always say you actually wanted to come outside for the fresh air…

Summits are a few very momentous moments interspersed with lots of sitting around accompanied by virtually everyone you’ve ever met, which is surprisingly good fun.

Adam Fleming

When broadcasting live, learn how to screen out the signature sound of a city crammed with ex-pats constantly shuttling between home and work – wheeled suitcases on cobbles.

Befriend some smart people who will tell you what’s really going on, but who understand that you are British and a journalist which means you are unlikely to ever tell them how grateful you are for their help.

Katy Watson: “Always invest in a good duvet”

Whether you’re working from home or on the road, the quality of your bed linen while on a story is crucial. A thin sheet doesn’t cut it, no matter the thread count. It’s all about the togs when you need a soundproofed studio on the go. Dive under, record your interview and pop back out. I think 95% of the FOOCs I’ve recorded have been under the duvet. And make sure you don’t have a lazy dog nearby … I’ve spent far too many interviews wrestling the duvet from my hound who has taken a shine to my makeshift radio studio – it’s not just correspondents who are fans of a quality duvet given half the chance. “

Especially your own.

Katy Watson

Last year I was in Brasilia covering the latest political saga and was asked to do a radio interview in the evening.

I hadn’t long returned from maternity leave and was still breastfeeding. I was hoping my little man would be fast asleep by the time came for the interview.

Sadly, babies are never the predictable little critters you’d like them to be. He started getting hungry (and squawky) a few minutes before I was about to start. In a panic, I thought I’d do the interview from the next room but soon realised that wasn’t going to stop his complaining coming down the line.

So I was left with little choice but to feed him while I did the interview. He seemed happy … so happy in fact he started squeaking away … with the presenter exclaiming, "is that your baby?!" Busted.

Refusing to eat will often be interpreted as an insult, but accepting can be even more challenging. I was with a tribe in the Amazon once who offered me the corpse of a charred and slightly rancid monkey. Its eyes were open and its teeth were bared in a grotesque grin. I reluctantly took a bite from its shoulder, choking back the urge to vomit. To this day I am convinced the rest of the tribe were hiding behind their huts doubled up with laughter that they’d got the 大象传媒 guy to do something so disgusting. But I was lucky. The producer ended up eating a tortoise’s anus.

They always say that FooC is where we correspondents get to tell the stories behind the stories you hear and see elsewhere on the 大象传媒. But – as always – be careful. I have learned to my cost that sharing a funny story can risk earning you the reputation of being a complete idiot. Last year I recounted how I managed to get myself a tattoo at an Indian festival by mistake – yes that’s right, by mistake. Look it up online – most of the people I interview seem to. It certainly breaks the ice, but put it like this, it doesn’t make anyone take me more seriously.

In my case it’s my mum even though she’s no longer with us – partly because she’d already concluded that 大象传媒 Radio was one of the glories of English-speaking civilisation even before her son starting working for it. When you know who you’re talking to, you know what to say. FOOC shouldn’t be about your interview with the Minister for Machine Tool Production in some far-flung land. It should be about something inconsequential but revealing which you notice on the way. I’m writing this from Oslo where we’re working on stories about post-Brexit customs arrangements – serious stuff. But my postcard home would be about the eccentric opening hours of the sex shop and cafe which stood side-by-side opposite our hotel. You can’t wait to tell someone about the city where you can buy a bullwhip but not a baguette at breakfast time. And there’s your point of departure.

Kevin Connolly reporting from the Middle East

"Don’t teach or preach..."

You’re on the programme because you‘ve been somewhere interesting and not because you are someone interesting. So spare the audience the folksy piece of wisdom you claim to have picked up from some old man quietly fashioning a traditional musical instrument with ancient tools. The worst FOOC I ever wrote was from Libya on my first trip to the Arab world around 30 years ago. It was a laughably pompous piece about the politics of the Middle East liberally punctuated with the whittling of wise old men. It was quite rightly thrown in the bin when it reached London. My second attempt – written in biro on the white cardboard shirt stiffener from the hotel laundry was about how the Libyan government had duped us into thinking we were going to be taken to a strategic military centre and then taken us instead for a picnic to Leptis Magna – the site of some magnificent but irrelevant Roman remains which hadn’t enjoyed any strategic significance for a couple of thousand years. It wasn’t brilliant either but it was honest and it taught me that I had – and still have – a lot to learn.

Listen to the insight, wit and analysis from 大象传媒 correspondents, journalists and writers from around the world.