Further to the idea of talking things into (non-)existence, a strange thing happened yesterday.
But we have to go back a bit first.

Last Saturday, I was spending my usual happy day listening to Radio National.
Just love that sequence: By Design, The Music Show, The Science Show, All in the Mind (despite the psycho-babble), The Philosopher's Zone (remedy for the psycho-babble), Radio Eye, Poetica, Lingua Franca ....
Then the instant turn-off, Singers of Ferkin Renown, when I have to switch to FM and wait for Jazz Track.
Just can't stand this thing.
I mean "singers of renown"? -- where's Mick Jagger? -- he's pretty renowned.
As soon as that horrible chord comes on (which sounds like a herd of buffalo breaking wind), I reach for the remote.
(And it's worse here in WA which is on a kind of time delay and sometimes said chord comes on after the 2:00 news by mistake.)
For years now, I've wanted that John Cargher off the air, and certainly not in my house.
Ruins my whole weekend.

Just can't stand opera.
As Chopper said to me in the Minjup pub one night: "Why pay good money to listen to some sheila screaming her head off? I can get that at home for free".
So I was very happy to hear that last Saturday was Cargher's final broadcast.
Whew.

A few years ago, JC had his 150th birthday or something and his picture was in the paper.
(I recognised him because I'd seen him once eating Black Forest Cherry Cake in a Melbourne café.)
Thought then: hope the old bugger's dead and this is the obituary.
But, as it turns out, just another birthday.

Then ... getting to the point of the story as we must ... yesterday, the radio news included the fact that he'd (as they say) "passed on".
Wonder what they'll put on RN at 4:00 on Saturdays now?
(That drop-in centre for junior grammaticasters and typo merchants known as Limelight magazine is not forthcoming on the topic.)
Whatever it is, let's hope it involves talking.
RN for talking, FM for music please -- and no crossovers.

With luck something bad will soon happen to that Throsby character who insists on ruining my mornings with incessant idle chatter and little music when I really need some.
Fingers crossed.

Sledge