Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Back in the day
Way back in the day when I was a budding young 'radio announcer' on ZM - all the national programme guys had to speak like BBC guys and things like pronounciation and enunciation and projection were considered to be awfully important. We had a green room to prep in and on the wall were voice exercises with phrases that were written to exercise all the vowel sounds, mouth shapes etc so you sounded tickety boo when you went on air. Two voice exercises I remember are 'That's My Pie Bob' and 'Weave Bob Vie'. There were heaps more but basically you'd walk into the green room and there'd be all these guys like Geoff Robinsin, Joe Cote, Dick Weir and Philip Sherry all walking around saying - very loudly - stuff like 'Thats My Pie Bob, Weave Bob Vie' etc etc. We kinda got used to it, but to outsiders who happened along it must've looked like an institution for the totally insane. This one time, a typewriter repair man walked in, and he had a fucking pie! OK, you can imagine it now eh! he was fully gobsmacked. It went something like this:
That's My Pie Bob!
Eh - I just bought it at the cafe!!
That's my pie Bob!
No., it's mine. And my name is Carl, not fucking Bob!
Weave Bob, vie.
Another time my mate Chris was was leaning over the gestetner machine in the green room, and I crept up behind him, grabbed his hips and thrust my pelvic region into his butt-ocks, to kinda freak him out.
And he did freak out. Mainly because it wasn't my mate Chris - it was the gestetner service guy who I'd never seen before in my life - he was wearing the same goddam Sansabelt pants as Chris. I tried explaining but it really was impossible. "Sorry mate, I thought you were Chris' just didn't cut it with this dude, who was, by now, well wary of me. Well wary!
Never saw him again, last seen wandering out of Broadcasting House mumbling about the 'Pinko Faggot Homo Radio Guys" (sic).
Oh dear. All witnesses just threw their heads back and laughed and laughed and laughed a river of tears.
I wonder if that guy is still telling the story - somewhere - from his perspective of events? Dinner party fodder probably.
That's My Pie Bob!
Eh - I just bought it at the cafe!!
That's my pie Bob!
No., it's mine. And my name is Carl, not fucking Bob!
Weave Bob, vie.
Another time my mate Chris was was leaning over the gestetner machine in the green room, and I crept up behind him, grabbed his hips and thrust my pelvic region into his butt-ocks, to kinda freak him out.
And he did freak out. Mainly because it wasn't my mate Chris - it was the gestetner service guy who I'd never seen before in my life - he was wearing the same goddam Sansabelt pants as Chris. I tried explaining but it really was impossible. "Sorry mate, I thought you were Chris' just didn't cut it with this dude, who was, by now, well wary of me. Well wary!
Never saw him again, last seen wandering out of Broadcasting House mumbling about the 'Pinko Faggot Homo Radio Guys" (sic).
Oh dear. All witnesses just threw their heads back and laughed and laughed and laughed a river of tears.
I wonder if that guy is still telling the story - somewhere - from his perspective of events? Dinner party fodder probably.
