Martha Kearney in the Slanket of Con. Martha subsequently tweeted: "I have reached the pinnacle of my career thanks to Corrie Corfield..."

Editor's note: Some of you will be familiar with the Slanket of Con, some of you will have no idea what's going on. I first saw it being discussed online which in turn led me to the Slanket photo album, already viewed over 10,000 times. So I asked Corrie Corfield and Kathy Clugston, known to you as two of the voices of Radio 4, to explain all.

Corrie: We can lay the blame for The Slanket of Con firmly on Twitter! A few of us who spend hours in the Radio 4 Continuity studio and like to tweet started to make comments about how cold it was in the studio. Which it is. We have to sit under an air vent that seems to blast nothing but an Arctic gale. Various replies on Twitter suggested we needed a garment called a "Slanket" to keep us warm.

Kathy: The slanket is technically mine. Having read our nonsense on Twitter, my friend Mark (@mark_simpson) gave it to me for Christmas when I went home to Belfast. He agreed that the leopard skin marvel could be donated to Continuity for the use of us chilly announcers. As soon as Corrie set eyes on it, she whipped out her camera and starting snapping us in ridiculous poses. It made us laugh so much we thought people on Twitter would love it too. And so it began.

Corrie: Can't remember what possessed me to drape The Slanket over the shoulders of the lovely and extremely well known Michael Buerk but he was our first victim. Poor man had popped into 40B (The R4 continuity suite) to do a trail for The Moral Maze and the next thing he knew he was covered in a bizarre polyester tent. He was however a natural. After that the initial idea of just snapping the announcers grew into photographing as many of the famous voices on Radio 4 as possible. The reaction on Twitter has been amazing and now we get suggestions of who should be Slanketted next (along with concerned tweets about the cleanliness of the garment). What I have noticed though is the minute the leopard print monstrosity is upon the wearer their thespian tendencies are unleashed.

Kathy: Various colleagues have taken pictures, but Corrie is our main photographer while I "run" the website. She has a great eye for a pose and amazing powers of persuasion, especially useful in the beginning when no one had a clue what it was all about. When John Prescott came in to read the Shipping Forecast for Comic Relief, Alice (Arnold) and I were on duty and weren't sure if we had the nerve to ask. Alice braved it and before he could think twice about it, we flung the Slanket over him and I took a picture with my phone. I love it that people are such good sports.

Corrie: The Slanket of Con lives in a drawer in 40B in Broadcasting House marked "BUNS" (don't ask) but recently it's been on an away day to Television Centre where the news programmes originate. It may not be the only time it's liberated from the confines of BH as there are still quite a few Radio 4 regulars to be bagged. The Today presenters have so far managed to escape but now a Dame (Jenni Murray) and a Lord (John Prescott) have worn it perhaps they'll be easier to persuade. And I really want to get Melvyn Bragg. That would be the icing on the cake. Or perhaps that should be The Jewel in The Slanket.

Corrie Corfield and Kathy Clugston are part of the talented Radio 4 Announcers Team

• See all pictures from The Slanket of Con on Flickr (new updates added regularly)
• On Twitter: Corrie Corfield and Kathy Clugston
• Posts from Announcers' Week on the Radio 4 blog

You'll know Kathy Clugston's voice. She reads the news on Radio 4 (and plays the ukulele). Knowing her as you do, you probably won't be surprised to learn that she's now a star of the Edinburgh Fringe too. She's just returned from a week in Scott Mills the Musical - the unlikely hit that David Hasselhoff calls "a true story, apart from the facts" - in which she reprises her on-air role: the posh Radio 4 lady. Listen to her exclusive report:

• Watch the whole of Scott Mills The Musical on the Radio 1 web site.
• Lots more about the adventure in Edinburgh on the Scott Mills blog.
• Kathy wrote about being told off by James Naughtie on the blog earlier this year.

And Smoke Fairies:

Yours truly was present for a magical collision of Radio 3 interactive head (and Proms producer) Roland Taylor and Radio 4 newsreader Kathy Clugston in Studio 70A this week. They had, naturally, brought their Ukuleles and they played Ode to Joy - the centrepiece of the big Ukulele Prom that Roland is producing - down the line for a Radio Ulster arts programme. Then I recorded Kathy and Roland's impromptu verse and chorus from Norwegian Wood. Here's the audio and here they are in action:

.

Very musical place, Radio 4.

ANNOUNCERS' WEEK: DAY FIVE

Many years ago, there was a rookie girl announcer reading the travel news on Radio 4. There was a spot of bother near Towcester, which she confidently names Toe-chester. The phone rang. Peter Donaldson (for it was he) said: "It's Toaster, dear girl, as in pop-up". The announcer (for it was I) would like to say she never made that sort of mistake again. She'd like to. How important is it to get it right with people's names, place names, particular words? On the world's premier speech network, extremely important. It's not just a matter of professionalism, it's good manners.

It's why we have a dedicated Pronunciation Unit, peopled by a select band of crack linguists, and a battery of pronouncing dictionaries on our desk. The Unit's website is called Speakeasy: in the course of a day's newsreading you can be consulting it or phoning the team many times. This past week, we've all become expert at Sri Lankan names. For example, the leader of the Tamil Tigers, Vellupillai PRABHAKARAN pronounced: vell-uup-ill-AY pruh-BAA-kuh-ruhn (-uu as in book, ay as in say, aa as in father). Or the Sri Lankan PM, Mahinda RAJAPAKSE: muh-HIN-duh ruj-uh-PUCK-shuh (-u as in cup, j as in Jack, sh as in ship). This is Speakeasy's guide.

Never assume you know how to say something. There are traps everywhere. Taksin Shinawatra, the former Prime Minister of Thailand, pronounces himself Taksin Chin-a-wat. The 'ra' remains utterly silent, like the P in Wodehouse's Psmith. Of course I said it incorrectly the first time I encountered him, and thought crossly afterwards he was just showing off with his extra syllables.

It didn't stop me being smug when other people fell over it , though. And local British names , with their cunningly obvious spellings, can make you very vulnerable. (See above: 'Towcester')

How authentic does it have to be? Of course it's Paris, not Paree, but do try to get Sarkozy right, (emphasise the last syllable) without all that ostentatious gargling over the French rrr.

How do you try to make it right every time? What if it's late at night and you can't find the name on the website? If it's a foreign name, check with the appropriate language service at Bush House. If it's British, try that region's local radio station.

If it's late-breaking news and you've already started the summary, you might have about 18 seconds while an audio clip is playing to dash through the website looking frantically (but vocally calmly) for it. If it's spelled incorrectly on your script, you're toast. There's nothing else for it but to draw on your experience, your nouse, and utter it with all the suavity expected of a Radio 4 newsreader. (But do, if you can, try to track down one broadcaster's efforts when confronted live, for the first time, with Phuket. No, it wasn't a Radio 4 person. The very idea.)

Any tips? Don't change down a gear in your delivery when a big pronunciation approaches. It's your job to make something that's hard to say sound fluent, matter-of-fact. Even so, every broadcaster has had the following experience: As the bulletin proceeds, there is a corner of your brain that's steadily cantering up to the Becher's Brook of that Really Difficult Name. You're into the story: up you soar, it flows beautifully, you've said it like a native. Mentally executing a victory air-punch, you proceed to the next story and promptly crash on a really hard word, like 'the'. Rats.

• Susan Rae's profile on the Radio 4 web site.
• The Speakeasy web site is only available on the BBC's internal web site but there are lots of useful posts from the Pronunciation Unit on the Editors' blog.

ANNOUNCERS' WEEK: DAY FOUR

Friends are always telling me I have the best job in the world. "You spend your entire working day listening to Radio4!" they say. Well, that's true, but only partly true. You see, we hear the programmes, but not in the same way we would at home. All the announcers have developed a weird, secondary sense of hearing - one where we're just aware of what's going on, while concentrating on other things.

The other things could involve testing the lines for Any Questions, checking the audio levels in The Archers or making sure we know who's presenting Front Row. On top of that, we field calls from producers making sure their programmes are ready to go, the Met Office with updated shipping forecasts or the team in the office with material for our announcements, so there's little time to actually listen to the programmes!

But this secondary sense of hearing is amazingly effective and kicks in every time there's more than 2 seconds of silence on air. When that happens, we all drop whatever else we're working on and jump to action. Was the silence just part of the programme, or has something unscheduled happened? 99% of the time it's the former, but every now and then we have to step in and sort things out (that's when your pulse races a bit too!).

So we do hear the programmes, but we can't always listen to them. There is one great secret the announcers have though, and it concerns that secondary sense of hearing. Away from work, we can listen to what someone is saying, while evesdropping on another conversation. So if you find yourself next to a Radio 4 Announcer, beware - they might be listening to your every word!

• Super-hearing is one of Superman's super-powers
• Wikipedia's entry on human hearing range

ANNOUNCERS' WEEK: DAY THREE

The real book at bedtime for the Radio 4 announcer is our Book of the Week at half past midnight. By this time we are entering the last quarter hour of our late shift and the part that is arguably the busiest for us.

If you're familiar with the end of our day's transmission we close every night with the same format... the midnight news, a story, Sailing By, the shipping forecast and a sign off.

Sailing By is a bit like Marmite - you either love it or hate it. The theme tune was written by Ronald Binge and heralds the start of the shipping forecast. I think it is quite a melancholy tune, but there are plenty of listeners and colleagues who love it.

Two of us work the late shift up until midnight. During that time we provide cover and most importantly support for each other, because now that we are self operating we put the programmes to air on our own. If for any reason something were to go wrong, one of us would be telling you - whilst the other announcer would be fielding phone calls or sourcing a different piece of audio to play - should a programme have to be abandoned for technical reasons. By midnight though, we call time on one announcer, and the other is left to manage the network alone until one o'clock.

The late shift has a completely different feel from a day shift. After the hustle and bustle of the day the office gradually empties and you're left on your own, with your colleague tucked away in the studio until you take over. When I first started at Radio 4 it reminded me of being left to babysit your brother and sister when your parents went out for the night. The shift begins at half past 4 in the afternoon - with a meeting in the Presentation office. This is to ensure that you are across any changes to, or sensitivities surrounding the rest of the day's transmission. After that, one announcer goes into the FM continuity studio, the other prepares for their evening ahead and collates and times the shipping forecast due for broadcast on long wave just before six.

The problem with this job is that you talk to yourself and often out loud. As Chris said in his blog - timing is crucial if you're going to deliver a polished performance and for me it's like crossing the finishing line if you get to the pips on time after a very long read.

The shipping bulletin is made up of three parts - the general synopsis, the coastal reports and the inshore waters. It can take anything from 10 to 11 and a half minutes to read. Once the microphone is live there's a sense of no going back. The danger of doing such a long read is that it is easy to go adrift - losing or gaining a minute - or becoming caught up in the poetry of the piece that you almost "sing" its delivery. At this point my mind is in danger of wandering from its purpose and a conversation begins in my head that runs something like this: "Have I just read that bit twice?".

"Gale force 9 - I'm glad I'm not out there."

"I'll just nudge the volume on the National Anthem - give it a good rounding off before the pips" I glance up at the clock, my concentration harnessed and my hand poised on the fader to play the Queen as I bid you goodnight. "Are you asleep now?" It would be so tempting to ask you out loud and then I'm minded of the nurse, the taxi driver, hotel porter, fire-fighter, houseman, new parent, light sleeper... I'm in good company. The reality is that as I hand over the network, switch off the computers, gather up my papers and turn out the light... Someone, somewhere is also working for a living. "Good night!"

• The illustration is from the 1928 BBC Handbook
• Diana's profile from the Radio 4 web site

ANNOUNCERS' WEEK: DAY TWO

There are some things on Radio 4 that you only notice when they go wrong. For continuity announcers the potential for things to unravel is never more than a stone's throw away, but it edges just a little bit closer each day at midday. This is when we split the output between FM and long wave for the lunchtime shipping forecast, and although you're not supposed to notice, the next four minutes are amongst the trickiest of the day.

Well, actually the first three minutes and fifty seconds are generally fine - but the last ten seconds can be as hairy as an unkempt yak. Let me explain.

First, meet the cast. There are three of us: two announcers - one on FM and one on long wave - and a newsreader.

At midday on FM there are four minutes of news. Not three-and-a-bit, not four-and-bit. Four minutes. Exactly.

On long wave there is a minute of news headlines followed by three minutes of shipping forecast. One plus three equals four. Happiness.

At exactly four minutes past twelve the newsreader and the long wave announcer finish their performances, perfectly synchronised. The FM announcer and the long wave announcer then say - simultaneously, whilst listening to each other - "And now You and Yours with..." And the mighty ship of daily consumer news that is You & Yours sets sail on both long wave and FM at precisely the same moment.

When this works - and it usually does - everything is as smooth as a well-buttered bar of soap.

But in a wonderfully British way, the weather can spoil the whole thing. Not surprisingly, the shipping forecast changes its length according to what the weather's doing. Some days, there are no gales, the sea is calm, the visibility is perfect and Malin is much the same as Hebrides, which bears a striking similarity to North Utsire. The result is a shipping forecast that is shorter than the required three minutes. On other days there are gales all over the place, the sea is up and down like a sailor's breakfast and the shipping forecast is what we continuity announcers describe as "too long".

So while on FM the news is beautifully calm and measured, on long wave the shipping forecast is hurtling towards the 12:04 deadline at the sort of speed that would challenge all but the most expensive shorthand secretaries. And it's scandalous how few really good shorthand secretaries serve on ships these days. So at 12:04 the newsreader finishes on FM and the shipping forecast on long wave is still going. Misery.

And this is why, if the weather is not up to much and you listen to Radio 4 FM at exactly four minutes past twelve, you might just hear a rather pregnant pause while the FM announcer waits for his long wave colleague to declare "and that's the end of the shipping forecast." But you'll have to listen very closely because there are some things on Radio 4 which, even when they go wrong, we still might just get away with.

ANNOUNCERS' WEEK: DAY ONE

3.30AM The alarm goes off, but it doesn't bother me. That's because I'm already staring at it. In fact, I've been staring at it on-and-off since about two o'clock, when I jolted awake after a horrible dream in which I overslept until half past seven, raced in to find Radio 4 on a loop of Sailing By and got told off by James Naughtie, the UN Secretary General Ban Ki-Moon and my old primary school teacher Miss Carruth. Still, it could have been worse. I could have been naked.

I drag myself out of bed, awash with relief and exhaustion, through the shower and into whatever clothes come to hand. Then I make a large flask of tea. This is a Very Important Task, as it will get me through the initial period from 5.20 - when I'll guide Radio 4 through the shipping forecast, News Briefing, Prayer for the Day and Farming Today - until 6.00 and the start of the flagship Today programme.

I arrive at work at around 4.30, read through News Briefing, tweak my scripts and do some timings. It's around now I notice I'm wearing jogging bottoms, a sequinned blouse and odd socks, and my hair is standing on end like a fright wig. Thank goodness it's radio.

Everything up to and including the Six O'Clock bulletin comes from a separate studio, so it's 6.25 before I join the mêlée in the main Today studio. I'm constantly amazed at how fresh the presenters look. (I'm beginning to think those muesli-yoghurt pots on the tea trolley that no one ever eats must be some kind of organic facial scrub.) The programme trail which runs before the news provides just enough time to say hello and machete my way through the mountain of newspapers that invariably engulfs my keyboard.

Once inside the Today studio, it's vital to stay focussed, for the distractions are legion. While you are reading there might be a sports or business presenter, Cabinet minister, religious figure, celebrity or other esteemed personage arriving or departing; someone could be making frantic signals for water, getting tangled in their headphones, rustling paper, whispering, wheezing, fumbling, rumbling or just having a jolly good stare. Well, it's not often you see someone in a sequinned blouse that time of the morning.

By the end of the shift, I have consumed my own body weight in carbohydrate but I'm still standing. Yes, the early starts are tough; but the payoff is being a part of one of the BBC's most prestigious and influential news programmes. It's like having a ringside seat at the most exciting show in town.

I hear they're planning a new webcam for the studio. Note to self: do something about fright wig.

• Follow Kathy on Twitter: @kathyclugston.
• Kathy's profile on the Radio 4 web site.
• Picture by Jenny Spadafora. Used under licence.