There is nothing to make the bile rise more furiously up my gullet than the phrase 'Steve Wright In The Afternoon'. A DJ whose playlist consists of collections of Father's Day 'Dad Rocks' albums and 'Now That's What I Call Bobbins 11,003'. The dated vibe has all the dignity of a primary school disco hosted by the maths department. What kind of ego-fuelled cockswabble has canned audience applause in their own theme tune? And a horn melody that sounds like a weak fart in a jacuzzi.
Good God almighty, I hate Radio 2.
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