If you looked at me, you'd think I was black.

Because it's easy to make someone look black for, like, screen, like, if you're watching it at home.

But imagine doing makeup so good that you'd think I was black right now.

Like, that's a bit harder.

Oh, yeah, yeah.

I mean, to pass in real life.

And then you had to also change your voice, I guess, a little bit.

No, no, no.

I'm not telling enough to change my voice. There was sort of like this vague implication of some sort of Australian, Aboriginal, African-Americans

to everyone in Chicago.

Like, it was like unspoken what the reason was.

From the smallest room in New York City comes a show that gives you a reason to live.

Ah, I'm happy to speak today to Australian documentary maker, radio broadcaster, true crime author, John Saffran.

I'm very honored to be in the smallest room in New York City after falling asleep, not in a bad way.

That sounds like I'm saying it to them bad way that I've fallen asleep to your show for years from my little bedroom in Melbourne, Australia.

But I mean that in a good way.

Yeah.

Well, I take it in a good way.

I hear from time to time, well, you know, you're in my ears when I fall asleep.

And I think, well, there must be something about, you know, rape and robbery and murder that people say, oh, that's soothing.

But maybe it's your voice.

People have told me that I've got a kind of bouncy little squeaky voice that, like, make small children happy.

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