These next two tracks were exercises both in writing for broadcast and recording. I can only hope that the subjects were made up, but even so, pieces of a baby found flushed down a toilet? Really? I didn’t realise Bret Easton Ellis was writing NCTJ exams.
I think these examples of my effete lisp are proof positive that should this journalism malarky go to the dogs, there’s always work for me in pre-war Hampshire commentating lawn bowls.
On an almost unrelated note, would any Teesside based single ladies over the age of thirty that could imagine this voice, tinged with impatience, slurring suggestions of a sexual nature through their letterbox at 3am please get in contact. Please. Continue reading Me, talking→
I’ve decided to put my stratospheric rise to the peak of radio broadcasting on hold for the time being. Perhaps I’ll go back to it once the NCTJ exams are out of the way or perhaps it’s not the right medium for me.
There was the feeling that I was just one slip of the tongue away from getting sued or stomped; I mean, I can’t go to a party without telling some nice chap from Singapore that my Grandfather cut off heads there for Her Majesty, back in the day. It’s like I have no internal filter – my inner monologue just spits out whatever, be it harsh truth, niche humour or phonetically remembered foreign chat-up line. Continue reading Video Killed the Radio Star→
My Mother once said to me, “You can go to Australia on your own but you can’t go down the corner shop.”
I find that succinct in a way no GP, shrink or bar-room confidant as yet has managed.
I can’t seem to get out of this slump but the show goes on around me so rather than hide in Hyrule or Modern Warfare or – God forbid – an actual book, I gave it my best today. This morning began at 7am and saw me presenting my second solo radio show for ClickTeesside – ‘Your Campus Radio.’ Continue reading God is in the Radio→
“In 2010 the world emitted 30.6 gigatonnes of carbon dioxide. If you want to know how big 30.6 gigatonnes is, look at your children and imagine them dying from skin cancer and lack of water, and then stop asking stupid questions and just do your fucking recycling.”
– Frankie Boyle, Work! Consume! Die!
I’ve spent the majority of my adult life living abroad, and for the most part I found it more bearable than not doing so; but if history has taught us anything it is that all foreigners are little more than vile savages before a fear of the Christian Lord and a good command of the Queen’s is raped into them.
One thing that some of them do seem a hell of a lot better than us at though is recycling; from India’s slums to the supermarkets of Denmark, it is understood that there is money in ‘waste’, be it sorting through what others throw away or collecting the deposit on all the dog-end filled empty bottles littering your apartment after a party. Continue reading Our Rock is an Alcoholic and We are Happy-Hour. Part Two→
There was no me on the radio today. For anyone tearing their hair out in desperate grief here is a picture of me feeding dinosaurs at the weekend:
Unfortunately I’ve been sick these last few days with what at first I took to be a deadly new contagion that would torment my organs into a viscous paste before sending my pitiful soul straight to the upside-down hell of the agnostic; fortunately, after rest and gentle consideration it turns out I have contracted the more common but no less debilitating man-flu virus. Continue reading A Brain Full of Slime→
Tuesday just gone was my second assault on the airwaves. It went well.
Things are getting more and more hands-on and my nervous jabbering is beginning to be mistaken for a growing competence that would lend itself to its own show. The persons in charge want to push out new programming and they also want to start having pre-recorded weekend shows rather than just an automatic playlist (there’s no security then so unfortunately we can’t do live broadcasts.) Continue reading Radio Friendly Unit Shifter→