The Great Musician in the Sky -THE MEDIA – SNOG MARRY AVOID?

I was watching TV in bed with my sister and the dog, when I noticed celebs and chat show guests are now applauding themselves on the back-announce. What’s all that about then? I thought only primates, footballers and small children dropping potty-bound lurkers that applauded themselves. Apparently not. Now, stay with me on this…
I remember under the eiderdown, Radio Luxembourg’s presenter was talking just to me, playing Beatles tunes because he just knew I liked them. Of course I was imagining it, but it came naturally. The Light Program’s HMS Troutbridge was a real ship. Sunday lunch without Billy Cotton? The spaghetti of mic leads, overflowing ashtrays and shirtsleeves were invisible, never mentioned on air. Ah, the magic that was radio.
Now it’s de rigeur to insult, talk over your guests and fill the airwaves with fecks and trivialities. A local presenter yesterday told the west midlands she’d “got her kids in the studio and they were being naughty”. Oh dear. The magic of radio? She was probably scratching her arse as well.
TV’s the same, but it’s widescreen, the scratching’s in stereo, and the bleep machine bloke’s now driving for Asda. Remember when screen sex was not a gynaecological spectacle, and Mrs Slocombe’s pussy was a cat? Fleet Street’s bottom feeders, often strangers to the truth, complete a grim picture, and we’re all hell bound with The Media at the wheel.
Not necessarily, my little board-treaders. Compared to the universe and stuff, the media’s still in its infancy. At the moment it’s Kevin the Teenager, and behaving accordingly. Handled carefully they can be very useful to you, so don’t avoid. Marry? Nah. I’d say snog, but no tongues. My sister and the dog think so too.