Monday, 15 August 2011

Nightmares, Late Night Radio & Dolphins

If the recent rioting in London isn't bad enough, last night I had the misfortune to be awoken in the middle of the night, soaked in sweat, and screaming obscenities at the top of my voice.
At first I thought that I was sat behind a desk, sat in a stuffy office, surrounded by dull fuckers, compiling spreadsheets, and wondering if after all of my years of loyal service, I was ever going to get a promotion.
It then struck me, as I slid out of my sweat-soaked bed, that I had in fact been in the middle of a nightmare, and mercifully, my mind had been playing tricks with me, and that I am no nearer to being employed, as I am to giving up beer, and taking up religion.
Once I had managed to make it to the kitchen, I poured myself a whisky, and switched on the radio, to try and send me back to sleep.
Unfortunately, if my nightmare had been bad, nothing could be worse than the dross that started to pour out of the radio.
Is it me, or is late-night radio complete and utter crap, only listened to by (a) people who have just gone through a nightmare or (b) sad, friendless fuckers, who if not listening to the radio, spend their time playing with themselves, whilst drooling over the contents of porn magazines.
I mean, at three o'clock in the morning, who telephones a radio show to share with the world the fact that nine out of ten people, if they had the chance, would love to swim with dolphins. And then there's the guy who phoned in to say that he was waiting for Jesus to visit him, whilst another called to say that he thought that the internet is a moden-day evil.
Tony reckons that late-night radio is the work of the devil, and that whilst swimming with dolphins might be a great way to relax, drinking ten pints of strong lager has pretty much the same effect on him.
I reckon that the boy's right when he says that all late-night radio show hosts are cunts, and although the death penalty was abolished in England years ago, it should be reinstated sooner rather than later, so that the fuckers can be rounded up and hung.
I'm now off to wash my bed sheets, because the launderette is just next to the pub, and I'm need of a decent drink.

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