It's A Kind of Magic, I suppose

We have Magic FM on at work at the moment. We need something that can fade into the background and everyone can agree on so Magic FM, like most of commercial radio to be fair, fits the bill. You can be certain what you hear wont be too controversial because it's the same songs that were on at that time yesterday only with slightly different topical DJs comments in between. Today he said "its' the wettest January since 1870, if you can believe that." *looks out the window, remembers all the news has been banging on about since the Queen's, Pope's and Archbishop's Christmas messages* yeah I actually can believe that.

It's good background stuff though, the most modern and controversial they get is the soundtrack to Despicable Me 2. Now that is a good song. Gotta love Pharrell. Was anyone else slightly disappointed that Peter Capaldi's costume didn't include that hat?

There are traffic and travel updates every 20 minutes as well, which is nice because you know the customers got home from the pub safe when you don't hear anything on the news.

The actual news is also a good in the pub because it gets an animated conversation started around the bar, usually one about paedophiles or flooding at the moment. Does anybody else wonder, if God sent the floods because of gay marriage what the heck's gonna happen when he finds out what Ken Barlow got up to? I'm building an ark from the blueprints they discovered, according to the news, just in case.

Yesterday they told us that: if you want to get a catchy song out of your head you should hum another song "like 'Can't Get You Out Of My Head' or the national anthem" and that will get the first song out of your head.That was on the news. The actual news for the 31st January 2014 was that. The actual fucking news. I could have told them that. We were told "scientists have found that" as if that immediately makes it news! It wasn't some experiment, they just happened to notice it in the course of their day! They could equally have reported that "chef's have discovered that," of "antiques dealers have discovered" or "convicted housebreakers have discovered" we've all bloody discovered! Scientists are slow on this one. And even if we didn't know it already: STILL NOT NEWS! How greatly is the world being improved by that? The reason I've never had a great novel published isn't solely coz I've got an awful song stuck in my head and if it was replacing it with 'The Final Countdown' would not fix that!

We need to find something to replace the adverts too. In one ad break on Magic FM we went through adverts reminding you to write your will, an advert offering services to help you through a divorce (legal services, not a hooker) and an incredibly dodgey advert from the NSPCC called 'The Underwear Rule' which advises you on how to warn your kids about paedophiles. I'm sure when I was a kid, I was told "don't talk to strangers" and "don't accept sweets", although I ignored both rules, how do you make friends if you don't talk to strangers? And more importantly, sweets! If you say no to sweets, you're a fool! Worry about your weight when you're older. This new advert though has a mother asking her child what the underwear rule is and a kid tells his mother it's that "the parts of my body that are in my underwear are private" someone should have told prince Harry, "and if anyone tries to touch me there, I should tell you."
"Very good," says the mother.
"Can I have a prize for remembering? I want a giraffe," says the child.
If I got given a pet tiger whenever I got touched up, I'd be walking down the street shouting paedophile at everyone who passed. You can't offer a prize for having your junk handled by the bloke from Corrie in the park, kids will be asking people to fondle them.

There's also an RSPCA advert now advising parents not to give giraffes as a present in any circumstances.

Back to the music. They do these sections of '40 minutes of uninterrupted hits.' Apparently 'uninterrupted' by anything apart from adverts and DJs talking, but you never read the small print do you?

I say 'hits,' the other day they played another one of Rick Astley's songs. Yeah, you heard right, there's another Rick Astley song! It's called 'Givin' Up On Love,' does that mean in your famous song you were lying to us Rick? Suddenly the world seemed like a harsher, colder, less cheesy place.

One of my favourite often repeated songs on Magic FM is Bruno Mars's latest unnoticeable snore generator 'When I Was Your Man.' In which he whines that "I should have bought you flowers and held your hand." Yeah? Well you should have thought of that before you went and did a silly thing like catch a grenade just to impress her you twit! She just wanted to hold your hand but you went and blew it up to impress a girl. Who catches a grenade Bruno? Who does that? Bat it back in the direction of the thrower! And also, if you're going out with a woman someone is chucking grenades at you've got to ask if she's really ideal girlfriend material.
So I guess you can't simultaneously hold her hand and buy her flowers, but you can still do one at a time can't you? Oh no, coz some idiot went and threw his other hand on a blade for her. You ever consider using a blade to cook for her? You are such a show off Bruno. Get the knife, chop some onions, make her a nice meal, she's yours. Don't go "hey, look what I can do. Owwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww! Aren't I tough? Marry me."
Well at least you're still able to go on long romantic walks with her, well if you hadn't jumped in front of a train for her that time. It's not like in cartoons Bruno, you wont just fall off the front of the train at Kings Cross, you're gonna get fucked up and delay everyone's journey. It's one thing to do it out of depression, doing it to impress a girl who wants flowers and hand holding is frankly, selfish, stupid and not as effective as getting on a train and taking her for a day out.
Will you ever learn? Not now you've taken that bullet through the brain for her you wont. And again, who is shooting at your girlfriend Bruno? I think if assassins are after you that's really the kind of thing that you should bring up early on in a relationship. Given how callous she seems to be about using her dates as a human shield in these situations, I don't think you need to worry about whether holding her hand and buying her flowers would have saved the relationship, she sounds like a bitch.

"Coz my heart breaks a little when I hear your name, it all just sounds like uh, uh, uh."
"uh, uh, uh"? Have you forgotten her name Bruno? Not gonna lie, this is a terrible relationship you are both far better off out of it.

For balance, in case I've been too mean to Bruno Mars and coz we should end on a positive note, his video with Mr Spock is very very good. Goodbye internet.

 

 

If that's stuck in your head now, just think of 'The Final Countdown.' 

 



 

 

Mothballs.

Friends, Moths, Countrymen: stand by your light bulbs. There now follows an announcement from the Queen Moth herself. May the light bulbs shine bright upon her.

My fellow moths, for too many years now we have been seen as third class citizens on this planet that we call Mothworld, that the humans call Earth and that the grasshoppers call Derek.

The Humans put themselves above all others, believing themselves to be the most intelligent of all of Mothworld’s inhabitants, although the Tigers can, and do, eat them so a moth must ask themselves who is cleverer there: The creature who invented torches or the creature that devours them? The Humans allow our enemies, the cats, into their homes, they allow dogs and gerbils and even sometimes snakes to live with them while we moths - who ask for only a bit of light - are flung out in glasses with a bit of cardboard underneath like we were no better than those paedophile spiders. Statistics back up that accusation. They show that many spiders are paedophiles, a scandal that goes right to the top of the eight-legged community however the tarantulas work hard to cover up the wrong doings of their smaller cohorts. As many as one in three children have found spiders lurking in their baths when they get undressed or building webs above their shower cubicles. They are bigger perverts than the millipedes who are, after all, just the centipede equivalent of the Human-centipede. They’re centipede-centipedes. Sick.

But enough of this casual insectoid racism. I say no more! No more will we moths be made to feel like third class citizens on our own planet. It is time we fight back. Sure today we may think that a glass is the humane way – or as we say mothane way – to be treated when we enter a Human dwelling, but that is probably how it started with the fish and now they are placed in whole glass bowls by the Humans and drowned, alongside tiny Human divers - deemed too small to contribute anything to society they are buried at the bottom of the bowl with their tiny castles.

I tell you now moths, I will not let this happen to my people!

As you are all good God fearing moths, you will know that we worship Him, the one we call the one, the one true guiding light. That omnipresent light that binds us all and shows us the way. The light that is in our hearts. MothGod.

But there are those who would turn their backs on the MothGod’s teachings: Those that would not turn the other wing or would worship the false light of the moon. Our society cannot adopt them, we cannot let ourselves be tainted by these kuffar morons and so we have, regrettably and with great pleasure, cast them out.

The worst offenders of all though, those that we simply cannot allow to wreak havoc on our moth principles are the gays. For is it not written in the book of Lepidoptorus that he who paints his wings many colours should be banished from society to “flutter by” into the darkness of the daytime where they will find no electric light bulbs for sustenance and will surely die alone in the dark. Surely that is the only reasonable punishment for a wing-painter who would insist that Moth and Grace is a sitcom that has something to say and that dance music is “actually kinda ok.” These creatures bring shame to the name moth and so we name them butterflies after our two least favourite things; flies that go around feeling superior and spreading their disease and butter with its bright yellow false light that lives in cold cabinets full of trick light that expires the moment we are inside.

Recently however, there have been calls for us to be more lenient on the butterfly community and so we sent two investigators to spy on their lifestyle and report back on whether the wing-painting butterfly radicals should be allowed to get married.

These investigators were asked to stay up all day and report on the butterfly behaviour they observed. They never returned. There is a transcript of what they found. Some of its content may shock you. At times they may seem delirious though lack of sleep or light but we have confirmed every bit of this report is true. Here is the transcript:

Oh my light! Sweet bulb!

Is it really…?

It totally is…!

It’s amazing…!

I don’t know if you can see this. Probably not as we don’t have camera’s but there is light!

Praise be to bulb!

Praise be to bulb!

You won’t believe how bright it is.

There’s like a big bulb, way up high. Higher than the moon (spits) and it is so bright.

Yeah. I mean it took a bit of time to light up but, Torch All Mighty, it’s bright.

It’s like the one true light if that wasn’t probably a metaphor.

If this is what daytime is like, I like boys now.

Me too. I want to be a butterfly.

F*ck me. Fu*k me hard.

Er…No.

Wing painter!

Shocking stuff, but the top moth scientists have confirmed the presence of a giant light bulb in the sky, which apparently lights up gradually in the morning, but then what energy saving light bulb doesn’t these days? I spit on energy saving light bulbs (spits) and it appears there is some evil dimmer switch applied at dusk, but it is still the brightest light we have seen. The Humans name it Sun after the newspaper they would swat us with, but that is an insult! To name such a beauty after a newspaper is unforgivable. It is our saviour, our God, our Guardian.

The report filed by our scientists suggests that the idea needed to make such a light bulb as this appear can only have come from a “God-like” brain and that below it must surely be the head of the MothGod.

My Moths we can reach The Sun…I mean the Guardian. By day humans have employed an army of birds to fly between us and the light and put something called space in between the birds and the Guardian, but we shall get there. Here is what we must do. We must fly into the homes of mankind’s women who will shriek and send their men to get the glass and the piece of cardboard before they can go to bed. Do not expend too much energy for we have a long flight ahead and once the light bulb, window and head of the Human had been bumped into a few times, the mere knowledge of our presence will so rattle the Human that she will feel compelled to deal with us before she can sleep peacefully.

Allow yourself to be captured. I know, but patience. Once inside the glass, the old beer mat or bank statement will seal you inside, trapping not only you but also the air around you.

Next we shall need a distraction. You see it is my plan that we fly away in our airtight glass pods through the vacuum of space to the Guardian, but we must distract mankind from our actions, but due to our intense hypnotism as long as we are in the room the Humans will be able to focus on nothing but us and will not let us escape with the glass.

Fortunately there is one who can break our spell over the Humans; a bringer of chaos, who wallows in anarchy and is the only thing powerful and distracting enough to draw the Human brain away from us. I have spoken today with Old Father Long Legs, he and his fellow kind will come outside the windows of the Human hovels and jump in when they are opened leaving us to fly away and soar up to the Light.

Old Father Long Legs asks nothing in return for they simply delight in anarchy and chaos and they just love bouncing.

If all goes to plan, my people, I will see you at the Light. God speed, or as we say, Light speed to you all.

(The Moth National Anthem: There Is A Light That Never Goes Out by The Smiths plays)