You will know Philomena Cunk (who bears a striking resemblance to comedian Diane Morgan) from her talking head on Charlie Brooker’s Weekly Wipe, and her own BBC shows, Cunk on Britain and Cunk on Earth. If there is anything to be learned about the world, Cunk will be on hand to ask the questions that others may not dare to ask (“Why do we cry when it’s the onions that get hurt?”; “Which was most culturally significant? The Renaissance or Single Ladies by Beyoncé?”). Now she’s back with a new BBC show, Cunk on Life, and a new book, The World According to Cunk: An Illustrated History of All World Events Ever, Space Permitting. We caught up with the amateur historian and presenter turned author to chat ghosts, politics and Monster Munch …

Hi Philomena! You’ve written a new book – The World According to Cunk. What’s the most difficult thing about writing a book?
Probably all of it. Because you don’t just have to start – you have to finish. And, worst of all, between those two, you have to keep going. This is the second time I’ve done it, and I nearly went on holiday in the middle of it this time. It’s that bad.

Did you really write it yourself or did you get someone else to ghost write it, like Katie Price?
For various reasons Katie Price wasn’t available, so unfortunately I had to do it myself.

Would you read a book that has been written by a ghost?
Everyone already has. Dickens is a ghost now. Shakespeare is a ghost. Everything that gets taught for GCSE is written by a ghost.

What other books have you read?
I thought Mr Tickle was interesting, because it’s one of the few books that really deals – in a very mature way – with the issues surrounding biscuits. And I liked reading the instructions to my Beko washing machine, because otherwise I’d have had no idea how the 30C cycle ended. And I hate not knowing how things end. Spoiler alert: it ends with a beep and a light going off.

Should they continue to teach reading at school or is it pointless in later life, like maths?
I think you should stop teaching reading at the point that a child is able to read. Otherwise the child will find it a bit patronising.

You’ve also got a new BBC series, Cunk on Life. How did you go about searching for the meaning of life?
I Googled it. Most of the meaning of life turned out to be sponsored ads. Maybe that is the meaning of life? There’s certainly shitloads of them.

What’s the best thing about being on the BBC? Do you get one of those BBC-branded microphones?
You get a briefing on fire exits, and a lanyard. And a long talk about not bringing the BBC into disrepute. But of course the people who turn up for that aren’t the ones they have to worry about. It’s the people that don’t come they need to watch out for. But you don’t get a sticker afterwards, like you do at the dentist. So trying not to get burned to death at Broadcasting House is not as good as getting a filling. I don’t know where they keep the BBC microphones. That wasn’t on the course. I remember some joker bending Terry Wogan’s one in half once, so they probably have them under lock and key now to save licence fee payers’ licence fees.

Who’s the most famous person you’ve seen in the BBC cafe?
There isn’t a BBC cafe any more: everything’s been turned into a meeting room named after a Del Boy or a Teletubby or whatever. So you just have to queue in Caffè Nero next to one of the Emilys or the Neils. And I don’t know who any of them are. Except they’re an Emily or a Neil and they’re having a complicated coffee. If you want to know which one’s Emily and which one’s Neil, you have to look at their lanyard, because they all have the same glasses.

If you could present any other BBC show, what would you choose?
The weather. I’d do it dressed as a cloud because, let’s face it, that’s all it ever is these days.

If you could interview anybody about any subject, dead or alive, who would it be?
Why would you interview a dead person? They’re not going to tell you much. And even if they did, you probably couldn’t hear them through the coffin. If I had to pick a subject, dead or alive, it would be the band Dead or Alive. I think Pete Burns was the best prime minister we never had. He wasn’t prime minister, was he?

What would you do if they made you prime minister for the day?
Resign.

What are your thoughts on the current state of UK politics?
I think we’ve had too many prime ministers now. It’s worse than Spider-Men. Perhaps we need something new in charge, like a president or a Father Christmas.

Have you ever thought of going into politics yourself?
No, but I have thought of going into Wickes, because God knows what sort of shop it’s meant to be, but everyone comes out of there carrying what looks like stuff you’d use to cover up a murder.

What laws would you abolish if you could?
That “no bombing” one at the swimming pool. It’s ridiculous. Where else can you bomb? You can’t exactly do it in the park or up Asda. And the rule at the airport where your shampoo bottle has to be really small. Is it so the flight attendants are the only ones with good hair?

What jobs did you do before you made it as a presenter?
I worked at Argos putting the catalogues in piles. When they went digital, I was made redundant, along with Laura who was in charge of small pens. She went ballistic when she heard she was out of a job, and ate one. She was going to try to sue the management for not having a sign saying “Don’t eat the pens”.

Who are your favourite other TV presenters?
I like Barry Scott, the Cillit Bang man. You don’t see much of him these days. I wonder if he got cancelled?

What would be your specialist subject on Mastermind?
Monster Munch 1977-1995.

You don’t get many Philomenas, apart from that film. Have you seen it?
Someone asked me if I was named after the film, but I’ve checked and I was named before the film. So it must be named after me.

Do you have any hobbies?
Yes. Four.

What do you like to eat?
Monster Munch. The best thing about Monster Munch is that they’re no longer manufactured using real monster, so even the meat ones are suitable for vegetarians.

Have you travelled much?
My show requires me to travel to the five corners of the world, and to be honest, I don’t really like corners because I was made to stand in so many when I was at school. I’d like to do a show where I ignored the corners of the world and travelled to the middle of the world instead. Maybe in a one-person mole machine. Bit of peace and quiet.

Did you have a happy childhood?
Yes. A very happy childhood. I have a photograph of it, and I am holding an ice-cream.

What were you like at school?
Hot. They’d screwed the windows shut because Tina Wood threw a Garfield out of one in RE.

What difficulties have you had to overcome as a woman to make it in show business?
Opening stiff jars, and roadworks.

Finally, what advice would you give to anyone who would like to get on TV?
Have strong opinions and speak your mind, but don’t think about it too much, or you’ll wear it out. If TV has taught me anything, it’s that a mind is for speaking, not for thinking.

• The World According to Cunk is out on 3 October. To support the Guardian and the Observer, order your copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply.