Saturday, November 14, 2015

Monkeys and Typewriters. Up Yours Radio 2


I'm pleased to say that The Hat's occasional blogs from Hat Mansions get read all round the world and are reproduced in various places when hard-pressed editors have pages to be filled. I admit to getting the occasional rare whispered murmur of dissent amongst the avalanche of superlatives that flow in non-stop from fans far and wide - but I do not lose sleep over such prejudiced churlishness. It's my blog, their loss and I value my finely honed literary integrity which I feel shines like a beacon over a morass of average bollox.

However, this week it has been brought to my attention that I am not getting read on Radio Two.

Worse than that, those biased middle class Londoncentric poseurs on the Radio 4 Front Row programme have not even mentioned my prose, let alone spent four and a half minutes analysing my use of Capital Letters and my contemptuous disregard of proper sentence construction. If this were not bad enough, I am told by An Insider that because I was born in Wales there is not a chance of my brilliant stuff ever making it to the short list that gets drawn up by the Head Of Cultural Resources while he is sitting on the crapper on the Fourth Floor.

Recently, I wrote a piece that was absolutely perfect for dozens of BBC radio outlets. Firstly, it was brilliant and beautifully crafted. Secondly, having spent decades studying their target audience, I had included words like 'awesome' and 'serendipitous', so that I would appeal to both the moronic and pseudo intelligent at the same time. Thirdly, it was Short Enough not to be too demanding on the listener's brain but Long Enough for them to think that I had said something worth saying. All said and done, it was the perfect fit for their Radio network.

Did they use it? Did they even mention it? Is Father Christmas really an old bloke who goes round the world on a sodding sleigh? No, no and no. But I am not getting out my hankie. As my mother used to say..'Don't worry, they don't know any better. None of them were bombed in the war'. Well I don't care. If they can't spot brilliance when it's served up on a sheet of paper in front of them then they can all go to hell in a handcart. I don't need them anyway. I've got people who want to be My Friend. They think I'm fantastic – seven or eight of them once wrote and told me that – although I admit that it was a long time ago, when I was a young rebel and had sweet smelling hair and a pocket full of bon mots.

Well, Up Yours, Radio 2 – and Radio 4...(I'm still waiting to hear from Radio 3, but I'm not sure it is still out there)...I can manage quite well without you. Screw You. I don't need all this Grief.. all this Pain, all this Literary Turmoil.

I'm now gonna go off to sit down in front of my keyboard, slit my wrists and write some fabulous racey stuff about nudity and sex in music videos. My piece will have pictures and sound effects. I bet you Radios 1 and 6 will be fighting over it.....

Pip Pip!
The Blues Man in The Hat

(No typing monkeys or Scottish pop singers were harmed during the crafting of this blog.)