It’s that radio anorak time of year when the slightly pre-death age anoraks lay themselves in bed dreaming.
If their nurse, carer or wife* is out of the room they grab a hold of their penis (*wife is usually imaginary or a blow-up doll, but some radio anoraks are not asexual and do indeed marry). For a moment they dwell on the memory of the days when their penis wasn’t stuck the size of a small caterpillar, or indeed wasn’t green, and then they drift off into their distorted memories of pirate and offshore radio. Back in the day this was a great sexual excitement too, far better than thinking about women.
Every August as we reach each of the anniversary dates of things that happened in the last Millennia, anoraks wait in hope of a test tone from some new radio ship or transmitter free from Government control. They tune up and down the bands straining to hear the slightest hint.
Well, here’s a tease. In fact, high up in some mountains somewhere is this transmitter array that I managed to get this long range photo of. It’s about to start broadcasting the pirate Radio Caroline’s programmes across the whole of Europe. Its multi language programming will carry messages of welcome to migrants making their final trek onto our soil, and it will run a special Lotto 6-49 campaign designed to assist allocate 49 migrants into every British home with 6 or more rooms (including kitchen and bathroom).
These are great times. Great radio times.
England's England 