Farooq Siddique: Steeley nerves needed on TV

At the weekend, BBC1's the Big Questions, a Sunday morning chat show hosted by the very capable Nicky Campbell, came to Bristol. A temporary TV studio was impressively carved out of the Ashton Park school hall in Bower Ashton.

I was invited to take part.

It was my first experience of taking part in a live television studio audience discussion. To be put on the audience front row was nerve-racking enough; to be asked the first question was almost mind-numbing.

To be honest, as he looked at me to begin the show, I could see Nicky's lips moving, but I didn't register the first part of his question. That part of my memory was overwhelmed by my panic-stricken brain screaming: "Oh my God, he's asking me!"

It's funny how nerves affect you.

The last bit of Nicky's question was all that registered. My brain responded almost immediately by unleashing an avalanche of words and ideas (gathered during 40 years of my life on this Earth!) that poured out of the deepest recesses of my mind, into a bottleneck at the base of my throat.

From that moment on, in that sensory state of emergency, which words and which ideas would eventually be developed enough to progress pass my voice box was always going to be a matter of pure random chance!

And, as the words literally seemed to fall out of my mouth, (many of them without the safety of a parachute) an alarm – sounding like the bridge alert of the Starship Enterprise – was reverberating across my whole body.

It seemed like little men in white coats were running around in my head screaming: "Are we actually answering the question?"

It seemed like an age before I saw the reassuring sight of Nicky's head nodding. Yes, whatever it was that I was saying was making sense. He didn't have to agree with whatever it was that I was saying, but at least it was structured. Hurrah!

But the euphoria didn't last long. Not only did his next question give me equal cause for sensory alarm, I suddenly became aware of the number of people that were actually in the audience. All of whom, at that moment in time – despite all the other far more deserving activities they could have undertaken – were staring at me! Not to mention the millions watching at home...

You need nerves of steel to take part in a studio audience discussion. Either that, or experience.

And it was experience that was evident in the contributions of the special guest panellists: Douglas Murray of the right-wing think tank the Institute of Community Cohesion – highly intelligent, sharp, aggressive, provocative – up against Imam Ibrahim Mogra of the Muslim Council of Britain – knowledgeable, gentle, spiritual, relaxed – debating the topic of the show: "Does Islam encourage violence?"

I'm not going to have the debate here again, but as I listened to the comments around the studio, my sadness and frustration that Islam is so seriously misunderstood only greatly increased.

Mr Murray said: "Anyone who says Islam is a religion of violence is as absurd as anyone saying Islam is a religion of peace; neither is true." He was contradicting his earlier statement of: "Islam is a religion of violence."

It appears the mind-crushing pressure of a studio debate is too much even for the most experienced.

For me though, it was a first – an incredible learning experience of theatre, of sound bites, of listening, of contributing, of taking part; of the power of words. I can't wait for the next time.