How do, Jackie?
Hello, Alan. Er, can you tell me, are you as rude to your family and friends as you are to the people on the radio?
I don’t have any friends.
Well, why do you criticise everyone who comes on?
Why not?
Well, do you think they’re all full of faults? Do you not think there’s anything wrong with you?
Think? I know there’s lots wrong with me. I don’t claim to be perfect. It’s others that put that cross upon me.
Well, why do you try and put everyone down?
Why not?
Well, it’s not very nice, is it?
Well, I’m not here to be nice.
Well, what are you here for, then?
I’m here for the money. What are you here for?
Well, I don’t really know.
Right, well, I’ve got a reason.
I haven’t found out yet.
Well, I’ve got a reason.
I know, but can you not be a bit nicer to everyone?
Why should I?
Well, you’re not going to be very popular, are you?
I’m not giving a monkey’s cuss about whether I’m popular or not. It’s whether I get the money or not. When the money stops, I’ll go home.
So that’s all you’re worried about then, the money?
You mean I should be worried about something else?
Well, it’s not very polite…
Polite? Polite? What’s all this polite crap? Why should I start being polite?
Well, why shouldn’t you be polite?
Why not? I like what I do. I do it the way I do it. If you don’t like it, listen to summat else.
So you like being a horrible person, do you?
I don’t like being a horrible person, I don’t dislike being a horrible person. I adore being me.
That’s the way you come out on the phone.
I don’t care. Your opinion and everybody else’s opinion of me is worth to me, nothing.
Well, what does your mum think about you?
My mum thinks I’m puddled.
Thinks you’re puddled?
And what do your friends think about you?
I don’t have any friends.
Well, why don’t you have any friends? Because you’re not a nice person?
That may well be the case.
So you’ve no friends at all?
No. Oh, well, that’s very sad.
I’m very pleased about that. I can’t be doing with friends, coming round your house, drinking your coffee, eating your food, attacking your earlobes. There’s nothing nicer than being alone. People are horrendous. They clutter up your breathing space.
So who do you talk to when you’re not on the radio?
I don’t wish to talk when I’m not on the radio. I talk for money.
All right, love, thanks a lot.
It’s a pleasure, madam. Good night.
Good night.
Return to Bomb Alley 1982 – The Falklands Deception, by Paul Cardin
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