Scallop wars and the Maybot: Bugle 4079

Chris, hit the theme tune.

The bugle, audio newspaper for a visual world.

Right.

Right.

Is that progress?

So

that is now the official start of the show.

Hello, buglers!

Hello, people who are not buglers.

Hello, people who are slightly confused about what is now happening.

So welcome, welcome.

So this, for our listeners not here, is Bugle 4079.

We are live at the End of the Road Festival at the Llamatory in Dorset.

It is now

one minute to midnight.

Funny o'clock.

And

this, a number of firsts for this podcast.

For the first time in our proud history, the bugle is headlining a music festival.

Now, I mean, it does slightly depend on.

Dads and Vincent.

Yeah.

If you really are a saint.

Is she a real saint?

Because, I mean, she must have fiddled the paperwork, because usually you've got to be pretty much dead, haven't you?

She's not even a real Vincent.

This is the first ever bugle to be performed outside.

Traditionally, it's very much been an indoor kind of show, but today we join the huge list of things that have happened outside.

A number of amazing things have happened outside through human history.

For example, the Battle of Waterloo.

The wipeout of the dinosaurs.

Most cricket matches.

All the good ones.

All the good ones.

Absolutely all the good ones.

The assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand.

Let's just hope there's no repeats of something happening outdoors leading to a catastrophic mass conflict whose echoes repercuss to this day.

Another great outside event, the crucifixion of a Mr.

J.H.

Christ,

former assistant managing director of Joseph and Stepson Carpentry, Woodwork and Donkey Riding PLC.

Also outside, precisely 50% of all poping has happened outside.

Did you know that?

Popes have a rare chemical in their bodies.

It's

Catholicium Popiosum.

And that means if they don't do exactly half of their poping al fresco, they become Jewish.

How can you not pronounce something you just made up?

Don't give the game away, Alan.

And we are now separate from some of the things that have only ever happened inside as well, including the finals of the World Snooker Championships, all of which have happened under a roof, the painting of the Sistine Chapel ceiling

happened inside, and also all of Theresa May's picnics.

I don't think there's anything more heartbreaking than a Prime Minister having an indoor picnic on her own, but look at her face.

She definitely does.

I think she has a weekly solitary indoor picnic.

Isn't that just known as a meal?

Don't come at me with your science.

As always, some sections of the bugle are going straight.

They're going in the bin, yes, correct, correct.

They're going going in the bin.

In the bin this week, a special woodland section, since we're in the woods, including the latest scientific studies over whether or not bears do shit in woods.

And the conclusion is that some bears shit in the woods all the time.

All bears shit in the woods some of the time.

But not all bears shit in all of the woods all of the time.

Also, a cartoon section in the bin, where a cartoon of middle-aged singleton Kathy encountering a series of increasingly graphic dick pics on Tinder.

The punchline is she says, ah, which is what we were all thinking.

Also, Hagar the Horrible has to take out a loan on the legal fees for a Zacrimonious divorce and the Wizard of Id attempts unsuccessfully to say something pithy about identity politics.

That section in the bin.

Also in the bin, we have a special speech for you because no one really likes making speeches.

And we have a universal special occasion speech.

So whatever speech you have to make,

you just have to cross out the bits you don't need, and it will leave you with the perfect speech for any occasion.

Starting with delete as applicable, ladies and gentlemen, stroke friends, Romans, countrymen, stroke, your honor,

stroke, all the dudes and all the honeys.

I stand before you today at my wedding, stroke bar mitzvah, stroke trial,

stroke inauguration, stroke exorcism,

stroke impeachment.

Alongside my new wife, stroke husband, stroke pet iguana, stroke man-servant, stroke quarterback,

stroke Kawasaki 350.

I'm absolutely delighted, stroke devastated, to be doing so on such a joyous, stroke tragic, stroke humiliating, stroke, legally complex occasion.

I have been looking forward to today with great excitement, stroke morbid curiosity and a stomach-churning sense of dread.

Stroke, an extremely expensive lawyer.

And now, with your love and support, stroke, contempt, stroke, fruitly worded insults and curses ringing in my ears, the future stretches ahead of me like an eternal journey into the blissful unity of love, stroke the postseason playoffs, stroke an episode of CSI Miami.

Thank you all so much for coming to share this special occasion with us.

Enjoy your day, stroke, screw you all, stroke, amen.

Andy, that is more strokes than happens backstage at a comedy gig.

Boom!

Ah, hashtag me too.

We are recording this.

Well, it was the 31st of August when this gig started.

And I think this is also the first time we've straddled two days on this show.

The 31st of August.

The 31st of August.

What an anniversary that is.

On this day, or yesterday, in the year 1422, Henry V died of dysentery.

That is an odd reaction.

What was that?

Dilly-dilly.

Dilly-dilly.

There we go.

Henry VI thus became king aged nine months

and began his reign as king by crying and shitting himself, making him arguably the political leader who has most accurately reflected the mood of his nation in human history.

You might think he's a bit young to run a country, but I would ask you this.

Who would you rather have running your country?

A crying and shitting nine-month-old baby?

B, option B, Donald Trump, option C, the shady forces behind Donald Trump, or option D, both B and C?

I think

we'd all take the shitting, baby.

Alice?

On this year in history in 1920, the first radio news program was broadcast, thus paving the way for this piece of audio bullshit.

In the US-Soviet hotline, went into operation,

thus paving the way for Trump to call Vladimir Putin at 3 a.m.

and tell him about a dream he had where Putin was riding a dolphin wearing the Aquaman costume.

Also on this day in history,

Princess Diana died, thus paving the way for a complete reassessment of our toxic celebrity-based news culture, which now respects the privacy and autonomy of individuals.

Oh no, wait.

That didn't happen.

I mean, the tragic death happened.

But if we've learned anything from the media trolling of Miguel Markle, it is that we have learned nothing from the tragic tragic death of Diana.

So, top story this week, are you happy with the world generally?

No, out of ten, how do you score the world right now?

Two, four, three?

Dog shit.

Dog shit out of ten.

But on the plus side, there's a story of great positivity this week, and that is that we are now at war with France.

One, two, three, four, we have declared scallop war.

And

I don't know if you've seen this, but British boats and French boats have been clashing in the channel in a battle about scallops.

I mean, it's just 213 years since the Battle of Trafalgar, so it's really just running on in the grand scheme of things.

So, this is so British boats appeared off the coast of Normandy.

See how you like it, you Norman bastards.

That's for what you did to King Harold.

Never forget.

So around 40 small French boats clashed with five larger British boats.

The boats bumped each other.

Stones were thrown.

And sorry if there's any children in.

Insults were hurled.

And up to 10,000 people were killed or injured.

Up to being the key words there.

It was 10,000, fewer than 10,000, but still.

And in the middle of this, some heartbroken scallops were screaming, I don't know who to love,

I just want to be cooked in the tastiest way possible.

I mean, the boats on both sides threw stones at one another.

Where are they getting the stones?

On a boat.

They are the least floaty thing.

I don't know.

New K-gut fishermen are now demanding government protection while the French are bewailing the loss of what they call a primary resource, which I assume is that.

Does that not scream primary resource to you?

To me, it's very hard to eat a scallop these days without thinking to yourself, Aphrodite, you are not what you once were.

So I don't know what you thought of this.

I mean, I thought when it came to the fisherman, personally, with all these scallops, I thought they were being a little bit shellfish.

Oh, fing hell.

Well,

I mean, in this kind of conflict, the one who wins is the one who ends up with the most muscles, right?

Boom, there we go.

Do my local Chinese restaurant ran out of scallops because of this

store, because of

this battle.

The owner had visited from Shanghai specially for a scallop and black bean sauce dish.

He was very, very disappointed.

Really, very absolutely crestfallen.

He really was a crustacean.

Sorry,

tough crack.

Is this going to lead now to, because I mean, this clearly was a resumption of hostilities in the

Brexit phase that we're all enjoying now.

Could this lead to

more tit-for-tap revisitings of our great wars of the past with our European enemies?

Are we going to see more armadas to Spain?

I mean, on the same scale, just a guy hiring a pedal-o and

urinating in the sea off San Sebastian.

Maybe with Germany, we'll just send a guy over in a hot air balloon to throw a sausage roll at a reservoir.

We'll resume hostilities with Italy by getting an angry red-headed woman to smash up a pizza restaurant in Colchester.

Take back control, people.

And also in Brexit news, Theresa May, our great leader,

sent by God to rule us all,

has

been to

Africa and this happened.

Now...

She's got the music in her.

I mean,

to be honest, I mean, what I was slightly surprised with was that when she turned up in Africa, people didn't say, oh, we've been expecting you.

Where the f ⁇ is all our stuff?

You wouldn't believe it.

You've come at a very bad time.

We are fresh out of endangered hippos for you to shoot.

Now, I'm no dance expert, Alice.

The only times I dance in public are when I'm trying to avoid a wasp at a picnic and your gunfire aimed at my feet.

Or the only other time is when I'm demonstrating to my children the things I do not want to see a British Prime Minister doing in public.

I mean, talk us through, as the Bugle dance correspondent, Alice, talk us through this.

I mean, look, she's doing some very awkward middle-aged white lady dance moves,

but I find them very reassuring.

I think Theresa May is the appropriate dance competence for a woman of her age, station, and let's be honest, nationality.

I don't think people are adequately considering exactly how horrifying it would have been if she were a good dancer.

Can you imagine how devastating it would be to the morale of the nation if she'd broken out a vicious breakdance backflip in the midst of a gaggle of innocent African children?

Really?

I mean, there are a few moves in there where she looks like she's trying to invoke an evil spirit, but to be honest, that is consistent with the rest of her politics, so I'm fine with it.

I don't know, I generally resent having to pay attention to news about what people are wearing or their bodies when there are more important things to focus on, like whether she actually managed to secure a favorable trade deal or what ancient evil from the bowels of the earth she's loosed upon the world with that weird arm move she did.

How about some sperm news?

Oh, yes.

Didn't see that one coming.

Family show, Alice.

Now, this is another aspect of Brexit that we weren't told about before we voted on it, and that is the potential devastating news that we could be struggling for supplies of Danish sperm after

Brexit.

It turns out that

if we don't get a good deal then

there's going to be a huge shortage of Danish sperm and it turns out that Danish sperm is the sperm of choice

for

IVF in this country.

Yeah, Danish semen makes up almost half of all non-British male reproductive material imported to the UK in 2017.

So now a no-deal Brexit might mean not only food shortages but a desperate jizz drought.

Coincidentally, that was the name of a progue rock band I was in as a student.

Everyone in the waiting line for some classic Scandinavian spunk will have to hold on to their wombs or figure out how to assemble thousands of tiny gametes from a flat pack with only an Alan key, which is what my friend Alan calls his penis.

Well,

Andy, I think the lead is being buried here in these millions of little Danish pre-immigrants pre-coming here, impregnating our women in what is admittedly a more consensual manner than is their ancient tradition.

They have never apologised.

Awful, awful people.

In the other sperm news, this is

from.

Which one of those do you think is going to win?

Shall we run a book on it?

The things I have to Google at work.

That was a Kenny Rogers song, innit?

In China, there was a Chinese sperm bank that was appealing for only

communist donors.

So

they were only taking communist sperms.

Yeah, they made a request for sperm only from men with an abiding love for the socialist motherland and good ideological thoughts, which begs the question of when exactly he needs to be having those thoughts.

Is it a general pro-communist attitude, or does he need to be thinking about the Communist Party as he stands in a lonely plastic room surrounded by nationalist pornography, providing the most patriotic possible sample?

Sheds a new light on the phrase, lie back and think of China.

But interestingly, actually,

sperms are communists.

Well,

Stalinists, technically, in that only one of them achieves anything, and millions of them die for nothing.

Take that, Stalin.

Take that.

Sorry to see him coming back from that satirical broadside.

So

time to move on.

Have you got any more sperm news?

No, I'm dry.

Let's give me 20 minutes to recuperate and I'll come back and try again.

Cheers.

Let's go on to education news now.

And

well, we have a teacher recruitment crisis in this country.

Do you have any teachers in?

Hands up if you're a teacher.

Yeah, see how you like it.

What is up with the lights here?

We're in a wood.

Right, okay, I guess

we are in a wood.

There is that.

So, what do you teach?

R.

E.

and philosophy.

R.

E.

and philosophy.

I mean, I think fundamentally there's a great problem with teacher.

With education funding.

And it would be very easily solved if we just got rid of all teachers,

apart from one category of teacher.

Because you have to ask, I mean, what do we need science teachers?

Do we need physics teachers?

No, physics is still going to work if kids don't know about it.

Just raises unrealistic expectations about jetpacks.

Do we need biology teachers?

Nah, who gives a shit how frogs frogs f?

Do we need French teachers?

We have Google Translate or just shout louder.

Do we need math teachers?

Just buy a fing calculator or ask an adult.

Do we need geography teachers?

Oh, whoopie fing dupe, a lake.

Do we need history?

History just f ⁇ s people.

I've got rid of all history.

It should be banned.

Look at the countries that are happiest in the world.

Places like New Zealand,

Denmark, Norway, Sweden, Canada.

What have they all got in in common?

Absolutely nothing ever happens there.

Compare that with the Middle East.

History, shitting out of its ear holes.

Ban history.

History teaches the worst than ISIS.

I don't mean everything I say in this show.

Do we need art teachers?

Oh, well done.

You've painted a picture.

You're not as good as Michelangelo.

Just fing give up.

And do we need English teachers?

There's enough fing novels as it is.

So all the only teachers we need in this country are drama teachers.

This is the one, because my daughter's about to start secondary school.

This is the one core skill she needs.

Look at the way the world is evolving, the jobs market.

That is the core.

I want seven years of nothing but drama teachers because that is what she needs.

She needs to be able, when she leaves school, she needs the core ability to pretend that she is living a happy and fulfilled working life and living in her own home.

Now, that is the most depressing joke I've ever written.

To return to the news story,

pupil-teacher ratios have risen since 2010.

How do you even say that number?

2010, 2010, 90210.

Pupil-teacher ratios have risen in the last few years because student numbers have grown and teacher recruitment has failed to keep up.

New figures show.

Research from the Educational Policy Institute think tank lays bare the severity of England's teacher recruitment crisis with just one in five physics teachers holding a relevant degree in some parts of the country.

There is a move on by the government to write more romance novels and action movies with hunky teachers as the lead, hoping to spark a rush to school similar to that experienced by the wizard industry post-Harry Potter phenomenon.

Until those books came out, magics was considered the domain of young men who couldn't talk to women at parties.

Look at it now.

In other education news, in China, a school has removed chairs from its dining room to stop pupils sitting down at lunch so they can get back to class more quickly to learn.

Now, that is a country that is laying its global domination cards very firmly on the table, then taking them off the table and saying, We've had our 45 allocated seconds on the table, now eat your lunch and get back in the classroom.

Another Chinese school has just installed toilets instead of seats in all classrooms to ensure that calls of nature do not interfere with the national march to becoming the planet's leading economic superpower.

The West is terrified of China,

not just economically, but militarily as well.

There was this rumor I read on the internet the other day that China has developed a secret million-strong army and this time they have not made the mistake of making them out of terracotta.

And in another world, slightly related story, the British government has proposed banning energy drinks for children.

I mean, how the f ⁇ are you supposed to get the little bastards out of bed in the morning?

I mean, you know, in China, these schools are just injecting Red Bull directly into their eyeballs.

I mean, how?

It's supposed to be a competitive global race.

Yeah, they're proposing this ban of energy drinks to under-16s amid concerns about high levels of sugar and caffeine and their impact on children's health and behavior.

Just one can of rock star punched

contains 78 grams of sugar.

That is nearly 20 teaspoons.

I mean, what is the world coming to, Andy, with this nanny state bullshit?

If children cannot be trusted to resist advertising deliberately targeted their vulnerable, half-formed minds and control their own sugar intake, who can be trusted?

It's worse than a nanny state.

Even nannies, didn't Mary Poppins, the first nanny to rise from the primordial soup, sing that song about 20 teaspoons of sugar helping the glucarone and lactane and taurine go down?

Didn't she, Andy?

She did, Alice.

You're quite right.

Super jingle work, Chris.

Lovely work on the jingles.

So, do you have any Australians in?

Welcome.

And so, are you excited by your.

You have a new Prime Minister, congratulations.

There you go.

So, this is

the old one.

This is...

I mean, that's a compliment, Andy.

I'm translating from Australian.

I always worry about saying

over here because in Australia, they get offended if you don't say it.

Yes, in Australian news now there has been a leadership spill in Australia, which is Australia's word for when a political party stabs its leader in the back and replaces him with another soon-to-be-backstabbed Patsy.

Sorry, leader.

This means Australia will not have managed to have a Prime Minister serve a full term since John Howard in 1997.

The current political lifespan of an Australian leader is about the same as a moth with a candle fetish.

Not that we were ever careful with our leaders before, as the tragic disappearance of Harold Holt in a mysterious swimming accident goes to show.

It wasn't that mysterious, he went swimming, and then at some point in the swim, we have to assume he decided to stop swimming.

As far as names go, calling this a leadership spill feels a little bit accidental, liquid, whoopsie for something that is in a very concrete way deliberately restructuring your national leadership and calling it a spill also feels a bit like

rubbing in our current nasty drought situation.

Yeah, it's all in drought.

The revolt against now former Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull began when Peter Dutton, famous potato-faced fanatic, home affairs minister, and leader within the Conservative faction of the centre-right Liberal Party, challenged Turnbull's leadership and lost.

And then they tried again later in the week, and Scott Morrison won.

So that's basically what happened.

I mean, it's not interesting.

It's Australian politics, for f's sake.

I mean, it's amazing how I mean how exciting it is for a country where absolutely fall ever happens.

So Scott Morrison is the new

Prime Minister and for those of you who don't know Scott Morrison he is essentially a Kalahari of charisma

He is a Christian fundamentalist who believes in the power of coal to save humanity and he took a lump of coal into parliament last year and thus becoming the first serving MP to go into his national legislative chamber carrying a physical representation of his own soul.

I mean, people are asking now in the wake of this news, who is Scott Morrison?

And the important thing to remember about Scott Morrison is you do not have to remember Scott Morrison.

He will be gone within months to be replaced by another indistinguishable man in a suit with flexible ethics and a penchant for treachery.

It's like the war of the roses, except roses won't grow in Australia in this current drought.

Australia is a fascinating country, particularly when you look at their attitude towards immigration.

Australian rules immigration, very, very similar to Australian rules football,

in that it is needlessly violent and aggressive, despite there being a colossal amount of space.

And it is and will always remain completely and utterly baffling to all outsiders.

As As Australia continues to struggle with extreme drought, large numbers of emus have been descending on an outback mining town in New South Wales.

They are causing only the kind of havoc that giant fk off birds can.

They're not literally descending as they're flightless.

They are more sort of charging in with their big wide beaks and bean pole necks and very, very scary feet.

Emus are a scary thing, Andy.

They're very big and they have the beautiful mad eyes of sociopathic murderers with attention deficit disorder and no natural predators.

They cannot digest their food without eating rocks, so you know they're hard.

These birds are desperately searching for food and water in Broken Hill, which is about 580 miles west of Sydney.

Local animal rescue services say they're actually walking down our main street.

We're seeing mobs of them.

ABC News reports groups of emus have been seen running laps of the main street, eating gardens and gate crashing football matches.

Ms.

Singleton, who works for the rescue and rehabilitation of Australian native animals, says we've had 14 on a sporting oval.

They've been out there for weeks.

The locals in the area are giving them food and water.

14 people on a cricket pitch for weeks.

That's just a cricket match, isn't it?

Emus.

On a football pitch.

But hear what you want to hear, Andy.

It's the only way to get through life.

I mean, all this EMUs stuff is fun and games till someone starts an EMU war.

You know the EMU war?

Yeah,

great EMU War of 1932 when soldiers armed with Lewis guns tried to curb a local Emu population in Campion, Western Australia.

It looks like Emus are just trying to get in on the current popular wave of public figures looking to return to 1930s political stances.

Let's move on to our Bugle feature section this week.

Festivals.

Since we're here at a festival, Alice, you are our festivals correspondent here at the Bugle.

You have a survival guide for festival goers for us.

Yeah, how to blend in at a music festival if you don't really feel like you fit in and are, for example, a comedian.

These are just tips for you.

Go forth and use them.

Make friends with a stranger with a wise smile and no egregious headgear.

Assess any kind of hat as an adjunct to rather than a replacement for a personality.

Find somebody who looks like they're here for the music and only a little bit of drugs.

This will be your safety officer.

They will be fully clothed in clothes that are recognizable as clothes.

This will distinguish them from many other festival attendees.

Follow the wise stranger to a tent of their choosing.

You won't like the music.

This is correct.

If you find yourself enjoying the music, move on.

It's not cool anymore.

The toilets at the festival will only be humane for five minutes at the beginning of each day.

By 10 past nine in the morning, they will be fettered, reeking hell pits coated in the toxic effluvia of drug adult strangers eating unfamiliar food in unsanitary conditions.

If you cannot make it to the toilets inside that five-minute window, hold everything in until you explode.

Shower facilities will be subhuman, freezing, and located in a remote area, accessible only via forest people entirely by murderers.

You should not use them.

Nobody will notice that you smell until you're back in civilization and people start flinching away from you like the dusty, filthy, glitter-strewn monster you have become.

By which we mean, welcome to the festival, everyone.

Well, that was the saddest year ever.

I'm sorry.

I love doing this festival, The End of the Road.

It's my third time here, and it's the festival whose name most accurately reflects the prevailing state of my career.

So, we're also going to have a quick look at some of the other festivals that you might like to try

in 2019, including Lullaby Loser,

the world's most sleep-inducing music festival.

There are 12 music stages with the top Lulla Beastas around, including Sleepy Joe McNutt, Snoozy Susie and the Gym Jams, and Zagron the Z-Catcher.

Are you wearing your pajamas under your shirt right now?

That was our little secret, Alice.

It's cold.

I'm 43.

Chicken Slam 19, the world's leading chicken criticising festival, featuring all the world's leading chicken skeptics.

Keynote speech from Professor Deirdrez Crockell from the University of Nanchwich's Ornithological Reassessment Unit.

with a speech, Chickens Are to Eagles, What Dog Turds Are to Da Vinci.

Also, the Unerotica Festival 2019, Festival of the Unerotics, some terrific exhibitors of Victorian-style undergarments, and music stage headlined by rock legends Warlocks of Chastity,

playing all the hits from their platinum-selling album, Not My Thing,

including your damn hot babe, but I'd rather do the crossword.

A little bit of booze, a little bit of snooze, please put your dressing gown back on you're embarrassing me

and

and it's a bit disgusting objectively plus their deaf leopard

plus their deaf leopard inspired pour some sugar in my tea

and also coach ella in which you can queue up to receive rugby coaching tips from the Australian rugby lady Mark Eller.

And of course, oh also the Gurning Man Festival, in which a hundred thousand people gather in the desert to watch 83-year-old Albert Froggage pull a series of weird faces.

How are we doing for time, Chris?

I mean, I think we are about...

Over time.

Over time, right.

F you, Chris.

F you.

Genius?

F you, Chris.

Now, for people who don't know the bugle, this may seem rude, but it's actually curiously a sign of affection.

Or is it?

do you have time for a quick QA

which is my favourite of the Smurf movies

my god that's

how to how to decide I mean

Jesus

I mean you've really put me on the spot there

I mean whichever one ended the franchise

I don't know if it's possible to choose your favourite smurf.

Smurf.

It's like choosing your favourite form of beheading, isn't it?

Long-term bugle fans may know that sometimes there are puns in the bugle, but

I've been trying to wean myself off them by instead reading major works of Russian literature.

And I got into it through a friend who's obsessed with major Russian literary figures.

And as soon as he was telling me, some of them are amazingly poor.

Some of these Russian writers.

He told me his favourite 20th century Russian writer had so little money he had to wear his shoes as a hat in the winter.

But he had an infestation in his hair, which then got right into the depths of his footwear.

I said, what?

Is Solzavnitsyn?

Tough crowd.

Anyway, he inherited this love of Russian literature from his dad's sister, a world expert in Russian literature.

She was on tele one day, in fact, talking about it.

Coincidentally, a day when my friend had a tickly throat throat problem that his doctor told him to monitor every hour.

He didn't want to forget either to watch his aunt on the telly or to take his medicine, so he wrote himself a memo, Anton Chekhov.

But it turned out was a psychological problem he had.

His shrink told him to make a list of everything he was afraid of.

There were four things he was most afraid of: cycle races around France, powdery stuff of any form, hot drinks made by infusing leaves, and implements for going down snowy slopes that weigh too much.

He wrote down, I fear tour dusty heviski.

hevski

i mean for effort if not achievement surely

i mean we're over our contractually obliged time this is

go look at the shock in some of these some of them have gone completely goggle-eyed

oh come on that was that was all right wasn't it right okay i'm going off to a nab a coffee

and uh anyway my friend was uh he was very upset actually there was uh they used to he was born uh on the 25th of July, and he was most upset.

There used to be a tax on people born between the 23rd of July and the 22nd of August.

And he was hoping that the government would

remove that tax.

And he said that didn't happen because of Brexit.

And he said, I can't believe they let the Leo Toll stay.

Leo Toll stay.

Right.

Some of these people are just staring at me.

I've never seen.

I've never seen a more stary audience.

I think we've reached maximum gawking.

right I can't believe you didn't trust me I'm real

I can only apologize for the last minute of this show

that brings us to the end of the bugle Chris any further housekeeping

good night good night thank you very much for coming this has been a I will admit a weird gig

a delightful crowd it has been quite odd doing a topical podcast in

well communing with nature with some lights that appear to have a mind of their own

with people who are now thinking earnestly about bedtime and where they're going to cook bacon in the morning so thank you very much for for staying up and and joining us here give it up for Alice Fraser

Chris the producer

I've been Anders Ottman thank you for listening to the viewball until next time goodbye

Hi buglers, it's producer Chris here.

I just wanted to very quickly tell you about my new podcast, Mildly Informed, which is in podcast feeds and YouTube right now.

Quite simply, it's a show where me and my friend Richie review literally anything.

So please, come join us wherever you get your podcasts right now.