As a result of officially becoming an old fart last year - crossing the River Styx from the land of milk, honey, and boobies, into the cold wasteland of my forties* - we switched allegiance from Radio 2 to Radio 4. For years and years the alarm would go off at 06:45, just in time to hear Sarah Kennedy rambling her way, barely coherently, through the papers. And that was nice. We liked trying to figure out what the hell she was talking about, it leant a vague warm fuzziness to the start of the day.
Then Terry Wogan retired, and Radio 2 reorganised its schedule. Suddenly, instead of getting the paper-rambly-WTF every morning, it was *shudder* show tunes. We stuck it out for a week, then packed our bags, upped sticks and relocated to Radio 4. I was envisioning every day starting out with proper grown-up discussions on proper grown up topics, rather than listening to some mouth-breather murdering an obscure song from South Pacific. Oh, the naivety of ... well, not youth, obviously - I mean, that's why we got into this position in the first place.
And yes, there's proper grown-up stuff on Radio 4 in the mornings, but at the moment a huge chunk of it revolves around (cue dramatic music) THE COMING ELECTION!!!**
Now you can call me a sexy old beardy cynic if you like, but I'm really beginning to miss the day-starting rambling fuzziness. Because what we have now, every sodding morning, is me lying in bed ranting at whatever sleazy thieving scumbag politician they're interviewing / quoting / or talking about. And there's still five and a bit more weeks of this to go!
You know what? I can save us all a huge chunk of time by summing up every single political discussion we're going to be subjected to from our elected representatives in one easy chunk, then we can all head off and have a nice cup of tea and a lie down in a darkened room. Contemplating what all those spiders we allegedly swallow every year taste like***.
Thieving Bunch Of Self-Serving Dick-Weasels (TBoSSDW) A: "Blah, blah, blah."
TBoSSDW B: "That's just blatantly untrue! Our policy is the only one that will work."
TBoSSDW A: "No it won't. Ours is the only policy."
TBoSSDW B: "Isn't."
TBoSSDW A: "Is."
TBoSSDW B: "No it isn't."
TBoSSDW C: "Under the last Conservative / Labour / Liberal**** government... Blah, blah, blah."
TBoSSDW B: "That's preposterous! Our policy is the only one that will work."
TBoSSDW C: "No it won't. Ours is the only policy."
TBoSSDW B: "Isn't."
TBoSSDW C: "Is."
TBoSSDW A: "No it isn't."
Repeat until everyone grabs a burning pitchfork and marches on Westminster. Which is about as likely to happen as television executives waking up tomorrow morning and realising that reality TV is crap-flavoured crap with extra crap on the side, and that maybe they should try making some decent bloody programmes for a change. Back in 1976 the song might have been 'Anarchy in the UK*****' now it's 'Apathy in the UK' ... or it would be if we could be arsed to sing it. Which we can't.
And we've got five and a half weeks of this to go as the collective mass of TBoSSDW posture, pontificate, call each other liars, and make promises we all know they're never going to keep.
Oh the joy...
* Where there are also boobies, but they need a bit of a run up.
** With three exclamation marks, because that makes it sound more exciting, right?
*** I think they taste kinda dusty, but with a squishy centre, a bit like bluebottles, but less crunchy.
**** Though to be fair, that would be a bit of a stretch. After all, the Liberals haven't formed a government all on their own since 1915, so giving them a kicking for screwing up the country is a bit like kicking a three-legged puppy.
***** And for future reference, "I am an Antichrist" does not rhyme with "I am an anarchist" and pronouncing it "anar-kyste" does not make you sound big and clever, or 'subversive and dangerous'. It makes you sound like a dick.
Labels: cock-weasel, ramble, rant