Radio gaga

Nearly two weeks ago, I was driving home from a shift at the newspaper where I sometimes put in a guest appearance.
I put the radio on, like always. I was looking for something amusing and diverting while I headed west looking forward to a festival of television on the sofa with the Panther. (Currently Wire in the Blood has supplanted Taggart although Robson needs to sort out his accent)
Radio Two was broadcasting the Russell Brand show, special guest Jonathan Ross. For a moment I was transfixed… then I switched it over. Why? I didn’t get as far as the infamous answer machine recordings. It was because it was rubbish – total rubbish. Like listening to the cacklings of teenage boys who’ve drunk too much cider showing off in front of someone‚Äôs big sister. Not funny and very annoying.
In similar circumstances I’ve stumbled upon this ‘show’ in the past and stuck with it. Not because I was amused or diverted but, more, stunned by the dreadfulness of it and astonished that the BBC thought this was a good idea.
But this time it was unbearable.
So whatever the rights and wrongs of who did what, who permitted it to happen and why we paid for it there is a silver lining.
The worst broadcast I’ve ever encountered is finished. Something finally shone the spotlight on this nasty, arrogant, idle, self-indulgent piece of stinky stuff long enough for it to be put out of its misery. Hurrah for that.

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