My Time At Radio Two

You may think that after relating my last tale a career at the BBC would be impossibly achieved.  And you would be right.  So under the pseudonym Paul McLennon I applied for a job as a Mix Master Understudy.  Naturally my skills as a Mix Master Master got me thrown through the audition and into the broadcasting booth.  My only problem lay in the fact that I was playing part in my host's egotistical plans to twist the world to his will with his loving voice.

I was thus angered by my creative stifling at the hands of this Irish wizard and was regularly seen venting my anger atop Western House.  There is nothing like cloud abuse to lift the spirits and dampen the window boxes.  My controller's spell binding voice had control over the entire nation.  His charming magic nearly defeated me but I was saved by my singular desire to break this conjurer's tricks with my Mix Mastering.

It took many years to weaken his defenses but I was soon given my chance.  After lacing the coffee pot with crack cocaine I was able to delay my nemesis' return to the microphone.  While he was shivving a secretary and protecting his lucky charms I seized upon the opportunity to demonstrate my talents across the airwaves.

ALAS, TRAGEDY!  I had lent my tapes to Ewan for use at his Son's First Scalping.  It was at this point in history I called out to the Mixing Gods.  I prayed them to bequeath me with the powers necessary to slay this demon.  There was a flash of sound, and a magical disco ball descend from what had once been air.  It's reflective power bestowed upon me a sensation.  I had not felt such power and almost believed myself to be dreaming.  Suddenly without any thought to my own safety a strange beat emerged from my lips.  It continued and layer upon layer soon became a musical masterpiece.  I have since dubbed it the Beatfox.  A form of musicianship so confusingly cunning that it permanently broke the spell of my captor and freed his millions of enslaved listeners.

I was thus responsible for the lowest ever ratings experienced by this corporation.  Thank you.  My interruption killed the airwaves and saved the world.  I had dispelled the bewitching chants of this delightful fiend.   My dreams of a richer musical nation had alas, been temporary thwarted.  Had I not intervened this warlock may have taken over the minds and indeed hearts of our fair people.  His power was dispelled and though unnamed my deeds made the national press and Paul McLennon's picture graces the reception desk at Broadcasting House.  To this day I am confused as to the words hidden message but it ran as such,  "Wogan forced into early retirement after cocaine binge leaves three dead and a nation weeping."  I am proud and grateful to the Mixing Gods for having such faith in a young disciple.

I take no credit for these acts of heroism.  A new music form has entered the mortal realm and a nation is free to weep for its freedom.  Despite remaining anonymous I have been getting increasing volumes of fan mail from an organisation calling themselves TOG's so I better crack on and find out what I can do to enrich their lives.  They probably wish me to perform a Beatfoxing fundraiser in celebration and I am happy to oblige.