Pimp my DJ

My IPOD is a little bit on the Cooksley, so I've had to listen to the radio on the way to work, which is kind of annoying because I'm having a big Adam Ant phase at the moment (although I hate Ant Music - it's mostly just been Goody Two Shoes and Young Parisians - Goody Two Shoes really is brilliant isn't it, such a shame he went mental) but instead have had to listen to Jordin Sparks and Gabrielle Climi a lot. However it did at least provide me with something to write about that wasn't "What's with that guy who put his naked daughter on the cover of the art magazine? Why is he so freaking weird? Why does he say the word compunction so many times? Why is dressed in that shirt? Why is he so obsessed with his 6 year old daughter being nude? What the hell is going on!"

As much as I love questions, that would have been boring.

Instead I found out this - on the weekend, our local radio station, Sea FM, of which I wrote about before, had a singles night. Nothing wrong with that - but they basically used the event to get one of their station DJs, I think "Rusty", laid. I found this quite odd - it was essentially pimping. They spoke for three weeks about how this guy hadn't had sex for three years, and how he was being made over, and how they really wanted him to find someone, and did we mention he didn't have sex for three years, and he'd be at the singles night all alone? And this morning they came on the radio and said, yes, he did get laid, round of applause for the lucky girl and for Rusty, who we pimped out for the night. I found this all really weird, although to be honest I am cynical of these kind of things and whether they are actually true. I come from a family where my Dad gleefully has pointed out the rigged nature of wrestling (oh Ms Kai, how could you?), boxing, and womens sumo wrestling. My Mum is Glaswegian - enough said. They take great delight in pointing out anything I believe in is complete rubbish, so they'd hate be believing a DJ picked up as was predicted, but I do sort of believe it, and I really do find it...uncomfortable.

Now, I'm not uncomfortable with this because I'm morally offended by a workplace helping a colleague sleep with a bogan at a singles night - I wish someone would do it for me to be honest. I'm just slightly concerned as to whether or not he had to declare this in the gift register. I think there's something in the radio broadcasting regulations which says that all gifts that you get through a station promotion have to be declared and recorded. Do they have to record the girls age and name in a book? I knew someone who went out with a DJ for a while, and he had absolutely no CDs and had never heard of Duran Duran, Adam and the Ants, Marvin Gaye, Guns and Roses, Icehouse, Silverchair or Coldplay. And he was a radio DJ, which essentially boils down to being a CD stacker on commercial radio when it comes down to it, or so this girl told me. And yet, this girl was really hot, and he was a bozo, and they were together. Why? I'd love to find the girl who picked up Rusty and find out the attraction. Maybe he has easy access to icy cold cans of coke and packets of pikelets.

However, all this has really done is remind me that I once worked for a radio station, something I had genuinely forgotten about. No one got me a girl, which is a shame. I'd have quite liked that. Especially in 1996, when I was incredibly innocent and shy around girls (and lets be honest, I wasn't rocking a particularly hot look). Anyway, on my first day there, I heard all these whispers about a secret safe, but because I was new no one would tell me anything about it. It was really intruiging. I wasn't even brave enough to ask what was in it. I kept my head down for about two weeks, until someone asked me if I wanted a drink, and went to the safe. It wasn't a secret safe, it was a secret fridge, and inside, to my eternal delight, was nothing but Egg Flip Big Ms, the greatest of all Big Ms by a million miles, which for some stupid reason no longer exists. I have no idea how they managed to get new cartons of a flavour of milk that seemingly only existed for about 3 weeks in 1985, but I was told never to mention it or take more than my share. It was then that I realised that there was this entire world out there for even the most basic of media performers - free gifts, icy cold cans of coke, loose women, free CDs and best of all, Egg Flip Big Ms. How the hell did they get them? God only knows.

It may not have been a woman I was pimped to pick up at a singles night, but it was a corruptible thrill all of it's own to a young cub reporter. If I'd stayed, maybe I'd have got to the sex and drugs part, but milk, that was a great start...