So this is the place for stream-of-consciousness rants? Great! Here goes:
Radio stations…yes, what a can of worms…
I have R4 on in the workshop until, that is, any of the following happens:
- ‘…and now here’s Gary with the sport’.
- Sarah Montague loudly goes ‘Erm, erm’ presumably because she hasn’t thought properly about what she’s going to say when the other presenter has finished speaking.
- Jenny Murray displays her thinly-disguised contempt for men.
- You and Yours…or, worse, Phone You and Yours.
- A bunch of Luvvies start congratulating each other.
Things I like about R4:
- John Humphries.
- The Shipping Forecast.
- Laurie Taylor
Planet Rock…those bl**dy adverts! Aaaarrrgh! And why, when they play Led Zeppelin, is it always Stairway to Heaven or Rock and Roll? They did have some other great songs! And if I hear Freebird again, I’m going to hang myself with an Old Glory bandanna!
Radio 2…no, sorry, I still can’t listen to R2 without being reminded of Sing Something Simple and my mother telling me how Engelbert Humperdink was better than The Beatles…and why do they still have such cheesy jingles? Anyway, in the workshop I wear steelies, not tartan carpet slippers. I make an honourable exception for Mark Radcliffe and his folk programme, but why does that have to be on in the evening when I'm not listening?
Radio 1… No, let’s not go there. Like Neil says, if they shut up for long enough, and played some of the music from the evening programmes in the daytime…
Well, there’s always the CD player…oh, wait a minute, the knackered mini hi-fi that my notoriously-cheeseparing ex-girlfriend threw out of her workshop and that I claimed for my workshop, won’t play CD’s any more. Never mind, I can hear the big, expensive-but-admittedly-ageing hi-fi in the front room from here, the cats will just have to suffer the volume… A quick burst of Frank Zappa is called for, that’ll cheer me up… I know, The Muffin Man, with its unforgettable chorus of-
Girl, you thought he was a man
But he was a muffin
No sounds were heard in the night
As a result of him stuffing
-followed by his blistering solo on (sharp intake of breath) The Hendrix Strat!
-but wait! The expensive-but-ageing Phillips CD player won’t play the song, it just makes that trippy, echo-y noise that reminds me of my misspent youth…
Oh well, take the hint, wash hands and go down the pub.
Craft beer.
What’s that all about, then? Is it real ale? No. Keg beer? It tastes like it. In fact it tastes like a bad pint of Bass but too fizzy and too cold. What's it called? Crystal Gold? More like bl**dy Crystal Meth. Hang on, they’ve switched the telly on. A music channel? No, it’s ***ing football…All conversation ceases as everyone stares blankly at a bunch of blokes running around in shorts, chasing a ball…oh, look! One of them has kicked the ball past another one…why is everybody shouting? My cup runneth over…not.
Ahhh! That’s better!
Regards,
John. Who is hoping for a better workshop day today…hope springs eternal. 