I have ironed my Interview Outfit (well, I have ironed the creases deeper in), polished my shoes, put out a bra that won't show through my white silk shirt and lucky Harry Potter socks (hey, they're no less likely to be lucky than any of my other socks), checked out the company's website, thought about questions I might be asked (Where do you see yourself in five years' time? Why were you unemployed for nine months of last year? What are your good points? Why should we employ you instead of one of our many other equally qualified, more attractive and frankly less weird candidates? Do you have any questions you'd like to ask us?) and realised I can't answer any of them.
Now I shall watch Frasier and go to bed in order to be fresh and non-bleary in the morning. I can do no more.
Wish me luck, gang.