One of the things I do in my spare time is present a weekend radio show. My slot begins early in the morning, so my listenership consists mainly of chronic insomniacs, pagans getting ready to greet the sunrise and burglars returning home after a night’s work.
The majority of the ten-or-so people who tune in are content to leave me alone to get on with the job, but every so often there are one or two who feel compelled to phone in to the studio. If you are one of these people, then you need to know this:
You are more than welcome to tell me how much you hate Mozart or ask me for an update on the weather forecast that I just finished reading less than 30 seconds ago. However, I do draw the line at being taken to task over my pronunciation of the name of some obscure Ukranian composer like Kylesmom-Isastupidbitch. I’m sure you think it’s fascinating that you studied Manure Technology with his grand-nephew in 1922 and therefore consider yourself to be the world authority in recognising when the emphasis on the third syllable isn’t quite right, but just for the record – I don’t care.
There’s something else you should also know – if anyone told you that this useless little dollop of trivia makes you the life of the party and/or more interesting to the opposite sex, they lied.