Please kill the radio stars

Reading the news as though you are running the 100m sprint does not give your ill-written script any greater pace or excitement. Gasping for breath between every sentence just means you have poor elocution and/or a heart problem.

Reading the news in a high-pitched, breathy, sickly-sweet Americo-Jumeirah accent is neither heart-warming nor charmingly cosy: it is fucking irritating.

For the record: there is no such place as the Skilly Isles, there is no such magazine as Acklan, and there are no such things as pattrons.