So some sort of poll or other is in and the Chris Moyles Show on Radio 1 gets more listeners than ever. And, it has to be shamefully admitted, the Biche is one of them.
I used to listen to Chris when he did the afternoon show. In retrospect I can't quite remember why, as these days getting home from work (or school as it was then) means practically falling straight into the fridge with arms and mouth wide open before even taking my coat off, followed by a long sit on the sofa in front of various Hollyoaks on various varieties of channel 4. Oh yes, it is a life of hedionism indeed.
But anyway, I digress. The Chris Moyles show used to be quite funny. IT DID! Never laugh out loud, but it might make you do that thing where you snuff a little air our your nose, such as you might get when you see a dog dressed up as a robot.
Now? It seems to soully exist of Chris playing sound effects again and again while his team of sycophants laugh their heads off. Dear god! It is the aural equivalent of banging your head against a wall! Or rather listening to someone banging their head against a wall while being cheered on by morons. What irks the most is that you know that Chris gets money every time he plays the stupid bloody jingle, as he owns the jingle company*
But for all the hideous annoyance of hearing an unneccesarily long jingle five times in a row, I time dragging my corpse out of bed by the 8am news, even though it is talked over by Chris and always with an unneccesarily long sport news section.
And I reckon this is the crux of the problem. Who can be arsed to retune their radio at 8am? It's one of those groundhog day stresses like 'oh GOD I need to buy some more forks' or 'FUCK, no showergel'
Every day you will curse yourself as you eat pasta with a spoon, abuse your eardrums and smell of Pantene from head to toe, but once that hideous little episode is over it will flee your brain so rapidly that even when you stand still and think 'now what was it I needed to do?' half an hour later, you will not remember.
So basically, I can't really insult Chris and co for being lazy, unimaginative and incredibly repetitive. I am all three too...between the hours of 7pm and 8am at least, or midnight and about 11am if the pub intervenes.
*or something like that. Something scandalous that no one seems to care about and I can't be fagged to find a link to prove.
Ha, let us blight the memory of your favourite songs as they will now forever be associated with some hairless pale blokes from the pub stand around nonchalently listening to Morrisey play 'pat a cake' on his head.
Yup, Cosmopolitan, glossy mag for slags (or for those stuck at train stations when WH Smiths has run out of Marie Claire) has had celebrity male centerfolds for years, including this incredibly...honest? one of Radio 1 or 5 or whatever DJ Colin Murray* from a couple of years ago.
