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My NUJ press card has landed.

And my photo looks as dodgy as deems nessesary.

It seems obligitory that you look a bit mischievous and grubby - like a wanted person if we're going by most press cards of people I know.

Still, it pleases me that I'm armed with that all important accessory for any journalist wanting to get through many a heavy door often shut in the face of the public.

I've had an oversized temporary blue one to date, which always needed an explanation.

Most memorably last month when I attended Woolwich Crown Court for the 7/7 suspected London bombers' trial.

An usher eyed me suspicously from the floor as I sat above her behind a glass screen in the public gallery.

I eyed her back.

Until she came upstairs and asked me who I was.

I pulled out my card with gusto and announced the publication for which I was there with pride.

"One of the men lived on our patch ", I said - (So there).

She handed the card back with a disdainful look.

There's no getting away from the fact that a lot of people think the press to be scum.

Despite the fact that we do an honourable public service.

But she did let me stay.

So i got the story.

And that at the end of all events - is all that matters.