My Time At Radio One

I've had a pretty mellow week.  Went to the shops, spent three grand on a Jeremy Beadle Mural for the exterior of the basement and found that pen I was looking for.  So instead of telling you all about how the painter got his head stuck in a paint tin I thought I would reminisce about my time at Radio One.

It was a long time ago.  Ewan was still working in hoofs and Lucifer hadn't yet crushed his legs in that Himalayan cave.  I was a plucky young Mix Master with nothing but a sweet record collection and optimism in hand.  I remember walking those golden tinted halls, smelling the incense and pretension, and thinking I had just found my home.  I finally found my office, seven floors down from the basement, which took some time to find, as there wasn't a B5 or B6.  Once home I set up shop and got straight onto the airwaves.

It was three weeks later when Derek Chinnery's assistant burst in and ruined my morning broadcast.  Apparently I was literally in the shit.  I hadn't fixed the third floor lavatories, the carpets were getting soggy and John Peel was losing his buzz.  It turns out the smell of rotting shit can really upset a higher state of consciousness.  I was ushered into Aubrey Singer's office and immediately sacked.  This came as a complete shock and my reaction didn't go down well.  I don't know if lack of sleep from a constant three week Mix-up triggered my act or if it was just anger.  I sort of lost it in the way that I totally lost it.  The details of my outburst were far to sickening to relate to such a fragile audience but Aubrey will never look at a middle finger in the same way and to this day he has never been seen singing Ave Maria.

Although brief I consider my time at Radio One to have been a very fruitful and creative endeavour.  I still get fan mail even now.  What worries me is that it is always postmarked with Iranian stamps.  To this day I don't know if they were just avid listeners of my breakfast show or if the signal I was using to pump out the magic was a secret MI5 spy frequency.  All I know is that I rocked their lives and that is what it is all about.

It was a memorable time for me and I was sad to leave.  Still, things turned out for the best.  Upon leaving the building I stumbled upon an idea so revolutionary I have only just entangled its complexity.  The idea was for a, wait I've lost it.  My fortune is tied up in there somewhere and once I decode my own complex thought patterns the world will be a better place.

I hope you have enjoyed this brief trip down memory lane as much as I have.  I must head off as I am scheduled to play a church disco down in Cockford Falls.  It will give me a chance to try out the new Moomins Dub Jam.  Something I've been mulling over on the fringes of my imagination for many a minute.  So I bid you a fond, HOLY SHIT THAT'S IT!  Bicycle pedal straps.  It's so simple.  Let the revolution begin.

What?  Ewan tells me it's been done and that they have met with only mild enthusiasm.  Sigh. You can't win them all.  Maybe if I stick a radio into them, that is a sure fire way to reinvent any form of cycling equipment.  Indeed it can be a much-wanted addition to anything.  How about Radio Radio's?  WOOOOOOOOW!!!  This is going to take some planning.

EWAN I NEED THIRTY GRAND FOR SOME RADIO PROTOTYPES, I'LL PAY YOU BACK WITH FAME AND ADMIRATION.

Ewan says it's fine.  Eat that Radio One.  I've just doubled your whole ethos.  Radio Radio.  It's the next big thing.  If I had an evil megalomaniac laugh this would be the perfect opportunity to put it into practice.  Better make a note of that, but when is another moment like this going to present itself?  I'll have to wing it.  WHWHWHAAAHYFJFHFOLFNFEYEHWYWHW!!!