AS I was driving into work the other day I had my car stereo tuned in to the Radio 2 Breakfast Show.
Usually, the man formerly known as ‘the ginger whinger’, Chris Evans, is on, talking about expensive cars or golf or whatever boring subjects he’s into now he’s given up marrying young popstars and drinking a lot of cider.
But on this occasion it was the dulcet tones of the old smoothie himself, Richard Madeley. Mr ‘I’m overly effusively interested in everything, especially if it will make me look down-with-the-kids’ himself.
He was talking to Nina Myskow – a blast from the past – about food when I set off.
By the bottom of Thorny Road, he’d eaten a mouthful of frozen peas soaked in lemonade. He was crunching and slurping as dramatically as he could to show he knew his role as a radio DJ was to be as descriptive as possible.
It was a sound I could’ve done without just after 8am on a Thursday morning but nevertheless, I was less bothered by that and more bothered with why he was eating such a foul concotion.
As the segment progressed, it became clear he’d been asking listeners to let him know the oddest and yet most surprisingly tasty food combinations they knew.
One listener had called in with peas and lemonade.
It’s a step further than cheesy peas which, since the Fast Show made them hilarious, have probably popped up in some disgusting frozen form in a supermarket cabinet near you.
It was Myskow’s turn next and she propounded the delights of a peanut butter and golden syrup sandwich.
I have to say, I was not totally put off by this suggestion, although I could feel my arteries hardening just at the thought of it.
At the time of writing, I’ve resisted, but I can’t guarantee that’s going to last. If ever the ingredients are in my cupboard and I come back hungry from a night out, I think I’m in trouble.
Can you imagine the remorse you’d wake up with though? No hangover would compare I don’t think. You’d probably wake up with no teeth too.
Sickly sweet sandwiches are not the sole domain of former newspaper and talent show doyennes, however.
I can personally vouch for that after having shared a university house with a girl who thought sugar sandwiches were an appropriate nutritional addition to the day.
The thought of that, at least, makes me gag.
Anyway, back to Richard Madeley, who seems to be carving out a decent career for himself these days without his shaky sidekick (although he does mention her every third second).
Twitter users will know, however, that Richard cheats when he fills in for Chris on his breakfast show. He spends every night asking his followers to tell him what he should say on the air.
He comes up with a topic he says he’s going to discuss on the show and then asks them to tell him their experiences of that topic. For instance, the other night he asked people to send him their favourite practical joke experiences and then he just read them out on air, passing himself off as the funny one.
There’s a problem with that method of broadcasting on many levels in my opinion. Mainly, it’s lazy – anyone on Twitter has already heard half the show before they listen to it and it means he’s not really thinking on his feet, which is what the best radio DJs do in my opinion.
On the other hand, it could be seen as sensible if you’re not sure of your ability to fill air time.
In fact, it might be a good idea that some of our MHKs who are less adept at public speaking could latch on to.
Before each Keys or Tynwald sitting, they could put one of the items on the order paper out there for discussion on Twitter. They’d probably pick one they didn’t have much of an opinion on but one on which they felt their constituents would expect some reaction of them.
When the debate runs dry, maybe a list of Tweets from members of the public could liven things up a bit? Or really stir the hornets nest in an already controversial debate.
Take, for instance, the subject of my last column, the disgraceful petulant behaviour of some MHKs over the suggestion they should pay 10 per cent towards their own pensions. The injection of a bit of reality there wouldn’t’ve gone amiss, would it?
Reading out a long list of Tweets from the public on the subject may have brought our elected representatives back down to earth. It may have focussed their minds?
Or maybe, like Richard Madeley, they’d’ve reverted to type and concentrated on the inane.
Frozen peas in lemonade at the Tynwald tea break anyone?