Broken Radio

Bad news. The radio in my car stopped working.

Yesterday, I flicked stations but I must have flicked at the wrong angle bacause, rather than go onto Lyric FM, the radio went silent. Initially I thought they were playing John Cage's 3'44 but then I realised that it was too silent even for that. The radio was dead!

The true enormity of this incident became evident as I drove home, in silence, through heavy traffic. When I say silence, I mean the radio was silent. I, sadly, was not very.

I found myself greeting every Fine Gael election poster with a hail-fellow-well-met country accented "Fiyn Gael". I simply couldn't stop myself.

Then, from whence is not clear, I started singing - both parts to - The Proclaimers "Misty Blue".

What the hell is wrong with you?

I've got eyes of Misty Blue.

Now imitating the timbral subtleties between Craig and Charlie's voices is a specialist skill which has heretofore eluded even the Nepalese Southern Hill Mynah Bird. But I have it a good go. 

As the laddie grew and he looked around him

At the thugs and rapists in their stolen suits

Louder grew the rhythm of his bloody heart

Telling him to shoot

I need to get this radio fixed. Quickly!!!