I don’t think that the five people who read this blog regularly would be surprised to learn that I generally listen to Chris Moyles of a morning. And I have no problems with this; while Moyles has his annoying tendencies (not least of which is his shameless parroting of the “BBC is fuken marvellous and thusly worth paying a tax for” lie), the banter that his team produces is enough to make up for it.
Unfortunately, a few weeks ago, Moyles and the team went on holiday. And the utterly dreadful Mills took his place.
This highly undesirable state of affairs could have had several outcomes:
- I could listen to the Mills moron in the morning, and my blood pressure would suffer. As would my generally positive mental attitude, and to be honest then I would be approximately 197% more likely to drive my car into the Lagan just to make the pain stop. In short, this option was not an option.
- I could listen to my own music in the morning. But this wouldn’t work for me; I like listening to something totally mindless. And if I was to listen to my own MP3s during the morning car park/commute, then I’d end up associating the badness of commuting with the music. And that would be a shame.
- I could listen to some of Belfast’s wonderfully shite commercial radio stations. This option is not going to happen until they stop being parodies of cheesy local radio DJs though. Dear fuck, they’re annoying.
- I could listen to another of the BBC offerings. And that is how I ended up listening to a geriatric Irish fool…
Worryingly enough, I’ve found myself listening to the Wogan show the odd time since Moyles came back.
Which means that, by continuing with their stupidity in swapping Mills in for Moyles, Radio 1’s management are steadily driving me away from them. Geniuses, the lot of them…
Of course, there’s also the minor point that I’m still being kept within the BBC’s stable. But then that’s always going to be the case in radio, because the BBC very generously (with our money) pay for the best radio talent out there. Which again raises the question: could they not find someone better than Mills?
There comes a time in every man’s life when he suddenly realises he’s gone a bit Radio 2….
Terry’s underrated. ‘Twas the Mills Horror that sent me running towards Wogan of a morning, and I’ve never looked back. I don’t think it’s anything to be terribly ashamed about; however, it is probably one more sign that we’re not young ‘uns any more. :::sigh:::