The following is an impassioned plea from the Heart FM Destruction Trust. So there I was at work, enduring the ‘more music variety’ of Heart FM we have piped in over the Tannoy (presumably to propagate murder/suicide/murder-suicide among the workers and thus weed out non-drone material), and I got to thinking again about the lives of the poor DJs who are trapped at Heart FM. Nobody seems to spare a thought for these bastards, doomed to play the same tiresome gash day in, day out; their anodyne-chipper radio voices going over the same impossible competition to win ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND POUNDS. “Sorry Karen, it’s incorrect. Better luck next time. Here’s the new one from Gary Barlow, from last year. Again.” They seem to enjoy their role in pumping out this ghastly ear cancer. They seem happy. However, I think that they need to be liberated from Heart FM more desperately than the public at large do. What are the DJs’ lives like when they are off air, I wondered. This train of thought led to some grim conclusions. At first, I thought they must live alone in tiny rooms waist-deep in Mcdonalds and KFC wrappers, practising their on-air voices while smearing excrement on the walls, a breakfast bowl of Prozac and vodka going to work on their insides. But this would be unsustainable. Some of these DJs have been at it for years. If we are to assume that they are indeed real human people and not just computerised voices, then the only way they could continue to exist is with a heavy management and restraint system in place (much like the Nazis, only worse). I have never heard them whisper “KILL ME” or suchlike whilst on air, so their daily itinerary must also include a programme of brainwashing. I can only conclude that Heart FM keeps them locked in some kind of concentration dormitory, perhaps with bunk beds and a choice of Gary Barlow or Katy Perry pyjamas. Nobody should have to live like this. A donation of just £2 a month to the Heart FM Destruction Trust could help me locate this nightmarish radio station, snap both of their CDs and then burn it to the ground good and proper, once and for all. Just £2 a month could help care for traumatised DJs, buy them new, unbranded pyjamas and help them learn to not smear their own shit up the walls whilst crying. Please.
Posted on: Wed, 20 Aug 2014 09:30:24 +0000
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