I got asked today if I am a real doctor. For fuck’s sake, you’d be surprised how often people ask that, and how much it irritates me. Talk about treating me with a lack of respect….
Of course I’m not a real doctor, but that depends on your definition. If you mean qualifications, diplomas, degrees, experience, yadda yadda, then no, I’m not. But if you mean am I a doctor of music, then still no. Not in the classical sense. But in the sense of having beeen (old) skooled in the finest house music, then most definitely. If you mean a doctor of the finest wines known to humanity, then yes, most definitely. And of all things related to advanced sleep deprivation and hedonism, then yeah man innit! I am the Surgeon In Chief in that department…
I was at a football match recently, an away game, at, well, let’s let them remain anonymous because this story doesn’t really do the locals any favours. After the match a local type approached me at Smethwick station (sorry, have I said too much?) and asked what the score was. Two-all I replied to which he then asked
“Who to?”
I’m still fighting off this swine flu. Mrs Muck has been looking after me with all sorts of herbal remedies to neck, inhale, inject, and my least (most) favourite, to push in and up slightly until your finger is completely hidden. That’s what wives are for…
This has been quite a mucky entry (oo er, see what I mean) but I am attributing it to the medication I’m on. A feel a bit woozy actually. Better refer you to the Muck FM disclaimer. In the meantime I must thank all Muck FM listeners to date, and welcome along our new ones. Let me pop your mucky cherry dear, it won’t hurt a bit I promise. Last weekend saw our best listener numbers yet, and everyone here is looking forward to the station growing in size and popularity. I’m off to prepare for the Drive By show later- see you out there. Spread the word…. spread the Muck!