When I'm walking through the Queen Street Mall and I see that guy dressed in the koala costume, I usually stop and give him some money (despite the fact that he gives koalas everywhere a bad name when he dances around like some kind of stoned marsupial armed with a plastic donation bucket).

I offer to babysit my friend's children even though spending an evening with them is like being in Children of the Corn. I recycle.

But I have a confession to make and here it is: I am embarrassed to admit that while I've only been a social researcher for a couple of years, I've already used my position for my own personal gain.

It's true. A few weeks ago I asked the boss to set me up with some tickets to be in the audience of Australian Idol. More specifically - I used this as a way to meet Dicko. I feel so dirty.

You would think that after being given my own cubicle at a social and economic research institution, I would be focused on immersing myself in the serious world of social investigation and policy development. Yep, you would think that (unless you actually knew me).

Instead, the moment I had settled into a comfortable working routine, I was on the phone to Channel 10 faster than you can say "abuse of power" trying to line up tickets to be in the audience of Australian Idol. So there you have it. I am an Australian Idol tragic.

The truth is, despite my long and varied addiction to televised singing competitions, I never intended to watch Australian Idol.

When the series premiered last year, I was still feeling jaded over the whole Pop Stars/Scandal'us/Scott Cain debacle. So every Sunday night I forced myself to watch Charles Wooley interview supermodels in the name of current affairs.

Yet I found myself flicking over to Idol during the ad breaks. Pretty soon I'd become enchanted by the camaraderie of hosts James Mathieson and Andrew G (the Bert and Ernie of the new millennium). I found myself enamoured with Dicko's witticisms comparing aspiring singers' voices to nuclear weapons.

I was baffled by Mark Holden but quickly soothed by the zen-like calm of Marcia Hines (or "Moprah" as I now call her because of her Oprah-like hair and demeanour). But the clincher was a certain Robert "Millsy" Mills. Watching that lovable rogue perform became "must-see TV" every Sunday night for me and my friends.

We started playing the Millsy Drinking Game - guzzling rum and coke every time he pouted at the camera. (We stopped playing when we realised some of us were passing out before the show had finished.)

In short, I was hooked. And this year has been no different. I have been glued to the set since the new series began. So when Channel 10 offered tickets to the show, I jumped at the chance.

Much to my surprise, Australian Idol is indeed filmed live every Sunday night at Sydney's Global Studios. This is unusual in television, as most shows with a studio audience - from Funniest Home Videos to Enough Rope - are pre-recorded. Think it's only 13-year-old girls and pathetic 20-something social researchers who make up the Idol audience? You'd be right, pretty much. But there's a real sense of fun among audience members.

Waiting for the show to begin, you end up befriending the people sitting next to you and find yourself embroiled in passionate debates with teenage girls over who you think should win but won't (Chanel) and who deserves to be booted out pronto (Marty). But the real stars of the Australian Idol experience are the hosts: James and Andrew G.

Imported from Channel V, the lads are even funnier off-camera than on. Unlike Big Brother (where Gretel Killeen turns her back on the audience when the cameras aren't rolling), Andrew and James make it their mission to keep the Australian Idol audience amused during commercial breaks.

The truth is these boys are nothing less than laugh-out-loud funny as they roam the studio giving away prizes, spilling behind-the-scenes gossip and murmuring one-liners that fly over the heads of small children. Frankly, they put Killeen to shame. And, just so you know, Andrew G is prone to dance off-camera when the contestants are singing.

As for Dicko, what you see is what you get. He's exactly the same in person as he is on TV: disarmingly honest and a genuinely nice guy to boot. In the few minutes I spent talking to him he admitted to being terrified of spiders; getting really, really annoyed with Moprah when she continually interrupts him on the show and still feeling haunted by the Paulini/gold dress incident.