Middle East: Broadcaster Róisín McAuley recalls an encounter with Yasser Arafat.
I met Yasser Arafat at the end of the Gulf war. I had been sent, by the BBC programme File on 4, to the West Bank, where Palestinians were standing on the roof tops, cheering Saddam's Scud missiles as they whizzed passed to attack Israel.
Saddam had offered to end his occupation of Kuwait if Israel ended its occupation of the West Bank and Gaza so the Palestinians supported him - if only in the sense that "my enemy's enemy is my friend".
Mr Arafat, in exile in Tunis, was between a rock and a hard place. If he denounced the invasion he would keep the support of the Kuwaitis, the Saudis and the Americans, but lose the support of his people. He decided to back Saddam.
The Saudis and the Kuwaitis stopped bankrolling the PLO, Palestinians lost their jobs in the Gulf States and Saudi Arabia and Saudi contracts with West Bank suppliers of building materials - especially marble - were cancelled.
Lynne Jones (the producer) and I flew from Israel to Tunis (via Switzerland) to talk to Mr Arafat about the long term financial and political cost of his support for Saddam. We waited in the marble lobby of a hotel in Tunis for a member of Mr Arafat's staff to bring us to a meeting arranged, I think, for about 7 p.m.
Just before midnight, a black limousine arrived. We were ushered into the back and driven at high speed through the dark streets of Tunis to Mr Arafat's villa in the suburbs.
It was surrounded by bodyguards, each with a cigarette in one hand and a sub- machine gun in the other.
We waited in the entrance hall. The bodyguards eyed us curiously. I supposed they didn't get many women arriving to meet the Palestinian leader at 1 a.m.
After about half an hour, Lynne and I were brought to the bottom of a wide staircase. A double door at the top was flung open. Mr Arafat appeared, flanked by half a dozen middle- aged men in suits. He stretched out his arms to us. "Salaam Alecum! Welcome! Eat!"
A banquet was waiting. Whole roasted chickens, humus, olives, peppers, hard-boiled eggs, lettuces, bread, grapes and half a dozen varieties of soft drink. "Please, eat! Eat!" By 3 a.m., I could barely keep my eyes open.
Mr Arafat was wide awake and getting livelier. At about 3.30 a.m., he rose with his entourage and we proceeded back downstairs for the interview. It had become clear during the meal that Mr Arafat spoke English fearlessly, fluently and unintelligibly.
I was hoping we would conduct the interview in Arabic, using Mr Arafat's press officer, Yasser Abed Rabbo, who spoke impeccable, American- accented English, as a translator.
Mr Arafat insisted on being interviewed in English.
File on 4 is a 40-minute closely argued radio programme. It doesn't use 10-second sound bites. We were hoping to record perhaps 30 minutes of argument and discussion. My heart sank.
There followed one of the most memorable interviews of my career.
I asked a question, Mr Arafat made an impassioned, excited and incomprehensible reply.
I developed a strategy.
Yasser Abed Rabbo sat just behind Mr Arafat, in my line of sight. When Mr Arafat finished his answer I would sum up what I guessed was the substance of his reply and glance at Yasser Abed Rabbo. He would give a subtle nod if I had got it right, a quick shake if I had got it wrong. And so we struggled to the end.
Afterwards, Mr Arafat clapped his hands and two aides produced several exquisitely embroidered Palestinian coats.
We were invited to try them on and choose one each. I think I will wear mine today.