Some people hate fat people. Some people hate white people. Some people hate ginger people. Some people hate people who cannot use grammar.
I don't hate these people. I hate one specific group of people.
I hate a group of people who could spring from anywhere. It could be any of us. Like an infectious disease it could be lurking within you only to rear it's head at a time no one can control. You'll only know if you're one of them if a set of very specific circumstances happen to you. It's a terrifying prospect that one day I could love my Dad to the very ends of the earth and then it will only take one short phone call and I'll never want to speak to him ever again.
Do you know who I hate? I hate people who phone in to national radio... What all of them? I hear you ask in your best italic voice. No, not all of them. I reply in a slightly bassier voice so you can differentiate between me in the conversation and me the narrator. Well, I correct my self unnecessarily given that I could have just edited what I've typed, I do hate the vast majority of people who phone into radios. Particularly the Jeremy Vine show. I just think you should always be too busy to call in because you are doing something. Even if you work in the field being discussed, if you are not important enough to be flat out busy in the middle of the day then the nation doesn't give a flying fuck dropping about your opinion. So, if not all of them, then who specifically?
I'll tell you, oh slanty voiced voice of the people. I entirely hate, loathe and despise this person:
"...can I just say a few hellos?"
NO. NO YOU SLOW MOTHER FUCKER YOU CANNOT SAY HELLO TO ANYONE. GET OFF THE RADIO AND PHONE THEM YOURSELF IF IT'S THAT IMPORTANT TO YOU.
"My wife will be just delighted to hear her name on the radio. It'll make her day."
Then fucking leave her because she is the most boring woman I've ever heard of. In fact, don't leave her: treat her better. If the nicest thing you do for your wife in a day is say hello to her while she's sat in the kitchen with the door closed so the radio in the background doesn't interfere with the phone call, then the love has left your marriage and you need to move on.
There are 64 million people in Britain, plus those listening to the World Service abroad, and I don't care if only 1% of those people listen to Pop Master. It is still too many people to have their day held up by the dullest form of social broadcasting. Thank the good lord in Devon that you don't need a license fee to listen to the radio because I'd be asking for mine back in the light of recent activities:
I should dearly like my license back please because of the following:
June 13th: David from Poole wasting my time saying hello to "Mark, Lisa, Amy and new baby Eric. All the lads from work - they'll be laughing at me for this one. Last and not least to my beautiful wife Jodie and to everyone else who knows me.
June 15th: Lesley from Dartford using the radio to say hello to Wendy her best friend from school who has been having a really tough time lately and so a little mention to her will really brighten up her day. WILL IT LESLEY? WILL IT? Apparently Wendy's dog died recently so Lesley was pleased to get a mention out to her. Oh thanks Lesley, hopefully Radio 2 will send Wendy a new dog. Or maybe the nation could club together. Or maybe you should just pop round and see poor fucking Wendy because she's obviously upset and you're doing quizzes on the radio instead of being there for her.
June 16th: Richard from Cheltenham who would just like to say hello to *grabs preprepared list* Joe, Martha, Kate, Nicky, Catherine, Katherine and Kathryn. Luke, Simon, Matthew, Paul, John, Jesus, the Son of God, God (obviously) Louisa, the population of India, the staff writers at the Daily Mail, Kim from the deli, his car, Tony, the tiger and of course... the dreaded everyone else who knows me.
You have wasted seconds, minutes, hours of my time with this shit BBC and I will be writing to you every day with a list of people I feel like saying hello to you just to waste your time in a similar manner. Today I want to say hello to Ainsley Harriott, Catherine the Great and Ed Milliband's thumb. Make it happen BBC or my revenge will be swift and cold as ice.
I'm not saying people who feel a desperate need to say hello are the scum of the earth but I am saying they are the sort of person who drives at 40mph in a 60 zone because it is almost time to turn the headlights on and they've only ever driven this road in broad daylight (every day). They are the people who drive down a straight road and brake when a car comes the other way on the opposite carriage way "just in case". They are the people who buy Which? magazine. They are the people who buy CDs from service stations. They are the people who order good steak medium well. They are the people who buy Nissan Micras for the driving experience. They are the people who talk to you in a queue even though you clearly have head phones in. They are the people who chat to the ticket inspector on a train. They are the people who wear fleeces. They are the people who refer to "the" ASDA instead of ASDA. They are the people who preferred Paolo Nutini's first album. They are the ones who leave the concert before the encore to beat the rush out of the car park. It's a Rod Stewart concert. They are the people asking for the encore at the Rod Stewart concert. They are the people who see someone they know in the street and just stop walking in the middle of the pavement. They have children named after Fleetwood Mac songs. They are the people who overfeed their obese grandchildren. They are the people who call charity workers chuggers and think their walk through town being interrupted is worse than the issue of poverty. They are the people who vote based on wind farm promises. They are the people tutting at homeless spikes and shaking their heads that it's awful. They are the people tutting homeless people and shaking their heads that they're awful. They are the people selling the house they bought in '86 for a tidy half a million.
They are the people just wanting to say a few hellos. They are the scum of the earth.