Ben Southall: how I got the best travel job in the world

The job description that draws me here is: spend six months exploring the islands of the Great Barrier Reef, feed the fish, collect the mail and pull the occasional leaf out of the pool – but only if you feel like it. Sounds all right, no?

I have never been to Australia before so arriving at Hamilton Island airport last weekend to be met by a media scrum and the 15 other finalists I am up against for “the best job in the world” is quite something.

I had never thought I had much of a chance, but here I am on a shortlist of 16, whittled down from more than 34,000 applications. Our group includes a Taiwanese interpreter, a radio DJ who lives in India and me, a charity event organiser from England.

Who dares swims

We are all thrown in the deep end together. A cliché – but quite literally true on Monday for three out of the 16 who have only just learnt to swim in time for the swimming test.

This is a chance to prove we are competent enough to spend our days snorkelling around the Great Barrier Reef.

The last time I went snorkelling was in the Thames. I was on a Lilo, wearing a white dinner jacket plus mask and snorkel, while being serenaded by friends dressed as mermaids and pirates. It was one of the publicity stunts that we were encouraged to do to win votes from the public and get a place in the final.

My boldest idea had been to place an enormous fish tank in the middle of Trafalgar Square, fill it with water and snorkel inside. When I found out that it costs £1,000 to rent Trafalgar Square for an hour my plan faltered slightly and I ended up taking an inflatable swimming pool to a park in Chiswick, west London.

It was a scorching hot Mother’s Day and I sat in this pool distributing daffodils to mothers all day. I also gave out champagne and T-shirts promoting Queensland. If people enjoyed my mad idea and wanted to support me, I asked them to log on to the website and vote. I think it helped.

Naked ambition

Tuesday and Wednesday see a fair bit of rain, so instead of the planned physical challenges – yachting and kayaking – I find myself in the rejuvenation spa. All the guys, myself included, had been ready to take on the first big, physical sporting activity and yet here I am reduced to paper G-strings, robes and slippers.

Lying on a massage table, wearing very little and being given a comprehensive exfoliation scrub might sound relaxing but when translated into an interview scenario, with an entire camera crew filming your legs, it is surprisingly unnerving. I am a quivering wreck.

You're hired!

When the decision is announced on Wednesday, I can’t believe it. I’ve secured a six-month job that pays £75,000, triple most people’s annual salary, to explore a beautiful island and the seas around it. It seems very distant from my own world.

Last year, after a 12-month expedition to Africa, I returned to Britain to find a very stagnant job market. I was broke and living with my parents, near Petersfield in Hampshire, to save money when a friend, Emma, gave me a cutting about the job.

Emma was going to apply herself but then said she didn’t think she’d stand a chance against me, so if I put in an application she’d back me up. Thanks, Emma.

Ostrich trick

For the rest of the week I am running on adrenaline. It’s nice finally to speak to my girlfriend in Vancouver. She is a stunt woman and while I’ve been away she has been filming herself doing cartwheels, three storeys up, along a high beam between two buildings.

I’m quite looking forward to getting her over here out of the dangerous world she likes to be in.

I can’t really complain, though, as I’m no stranger to danger myself. When first applying for the job, I had to send in a minute-long video clip to prove that I was adventurous, had a passion for the outdoors and was willing to try new things.

There was one shot in the footage that I think caught the judges’ attention – me riding an ostrich in Africa.

The ostrich wore a darkened cloth bag over his head to relax him. As I climbed on to his back and grabbed both enormous wings, the handler pulled off the bag and smacked the bird’s backside. Whack! Suddenly two prehistoric great legs took off and I had to cling on for dear life.

I’ve felt a little like that ostrich during the past week – perhaps when I’m back in England next month I might have to try the cloth-bag-over-the-head trick to calm down.