Bugle 222 – Halfrica

This is a podcast from thebuglepodcast.com

The Bugle, audio newspaper for a visual world.

Hello buglers and welcome to a very special bugle indeed because for the first time ever in bugle history we lost the first 20 minutes that we recorded for this week's show due to technology being a feisty little bastard and wiping it off the computer or something, Chris said.

Something about files being corrupted, and that, to be honest, is way beyond my sphere of technological comprehension.

But the good news is, we still have the rest of the show for you.

The bad news is...

The first 20 minutes was probably the best bit, to be honest.

But the good news is, that doesn't mean the rest of it wasn't the usual solid 2.5 karat bugle gold.

The bad news is, you will not be hearing some lovely stuff about the Mali crisis, but the good news is it's probably been reported on by other news outlets.

The bad news is our coverage was bang in line for a Pulitzer Prize for Investigative Journalism.

And the good news is Marley will still probably be in the news next week, so we'll just do it all again.

The bad news, though, Marley will probably still be in the news next week.

So in the meantime, here is what is left of issue 222222.

That's the sound check done.

Here is what is left of issue 222.

All aboard the bugle train.

This is the 222 service calling at all stations to Saturday Central via Bullshit Temple Meads.

222.

I'm Andy Zaltzman, as you may have guessed.

I'm in London, England, appropriately enough for this 222 issue.

What's left of it?

The city voted 222nd in the city that most looked like a banana.

in aerial photographs competition this year.

I was joined for this bugle when we initially recorded it on Saturday by phone from a Denver hotel room by none other than John Oliver.

Now, as you can well imagine, he kicked things off, as he so often does on the bugle, with some showbiz chit-chat about how he'd been playing cribbage with Greta Garbo's ghost or something, and then had a wrestle with Hulk Hogan dressed in a monkey outfit on top of the Empire State Building and got a piggyback to work from Madeleine Albright.

The usual kind of stuff.

I then informed you that, as this is the bugle for the week beginning Monday, the 4th of February 2013, it is exactly 224 years to the day since little Georgie Washington was elected the first president of the USA and that means that tomorrow is exactly 224 years to the day since George Washington had a tattoo on his left buttock reading POTUS hashtag one in ancient Roman style lettering inside a picture of a serpent strangling a mermaid.

Other ink on G-Wash included a tattoo of his wife Martha in a bikini, something in Chinese about how it is good to be nice to people and a picture of Benjamin Franklin.

Well, a bet's a bet.

Sure, they were both a bit drunk after celebrating signing the Constitution, but to be honest, Washington was naive to think he could eat 51 eggs in a single sitting.

In the end, he only managed four before clacking like a chicken, shouting, Call me Captain Roostie, and collapsing in a cold scuttle.

I would also have told you that Monday was also exactly 101 years since the death of Franz Reichelt, who on the 4th of February 1912 discovered with the aid of one Eiffel Tower and one homemade parachute suit that his homemade parachute suit had a slight technical glitch.

It didn't work, or at least it didn't work nearly as well well as gravity works.

He realised this in the time that it takes a man not wearing a parachute to fall 57 metres from the Eiffel Tower's first deck to the ground.

Not much time, then, for him to come up with a plan B, perhaps just enough really to think of what he'd say in the post-max press conference on the positives he could take from going fatally 1-0 down in his battle with science.

But a fair play to the lad, he had experimented before his jump by throwing dummies out of high windows.

The parachute suit didn't work with them either, so he concluded that if he replaced those two key things, the windows and the dummies, with improved alternatives, the Eiffel Tower and himself, then logically it had to work.

Logic, shmm, logic, he must have thought as he splattered himself to a heroic but nonetheless permanent end on the icy Parisian ground.

But on the plus side, by popping his own clogs in such an idiotic way on the altar of experimentation in 1912, he happily missed out on World War One, the global influenza epidemic, the rise of Hitler, World War II, Germany beating Hungary in the 1954 World Cup final, and keeping up with the Kardashians.

So, all in all, not nearly as bad a career move as it must have seemed to him at the time.

Then, after that bit, there was the section in the bin.

This week it was a book review section focusing on the latest works by the literary pawnsmith E.L.

James.

2012 was of course a great year for E.L.

with 50 Shades of Grey, the low-grade growth fiction, becoming the fastest-selling paperback of all time.

Of course, 50 Shades of Grey was a book which seriously disappointed prison refurbishment consultants the world over as they excitedly dived into what they thought was going to be the paint catalogue to end all paint catalogues.

It was also a grievous letdown to those who thought they were buying an academic treatise analysing the home lighting designs of the former 1980s New Zealand cricketer Evan Gray.

But in our section of the bin we looked at the latest sequels that E.L.

James has chunded out including 50 Shades of Peuce, 50 Big Penises, Ouch That Was My Arse You Just Smashed With a Vase, A Guide to Corporate Taxation 2013, Unexpected Change of Direction for EL, that could test her core fans, at War and Peace, a controversial rewrite of Little Leo Tolstoy Smash It Classic, rewritten by E.L.

as a short story about a man putting up a shelf whilst his girlfriend makes a cup of tea whilst both of them think about genitals, and of course the long-awaited finale in the 50 Shade series, F you, Mrs.

Pankhurst.

And then after that, we crack straight into our special Africa section, some of which you're about to hear, some of which you'll have to wait until next week's show for an updated and even better version of it.

But to enjoy what's left of the show, we recorded on Saturday and apologies that the prize for the Super Bowl competition is now no longer valid unless you have a time machine.

Zimbabwe update now.

And Zimbabwe, Andy, as we have commented on in the bugle over the last few years, has had one of the world's funniest currencies, leading to some of the world's least funny consequences from that currency.

Things have seemed to settle down a little recently.

The power sharing government set up in 2009 finally ended years of spectacular hyperinflation by using the US dollar, but their economy is still fragile.

And I'm talking Ming Vas in an earthquake fragile, Andy, except not a real Ming Vas, because that would be worth too much.

I'm talking an imitation, borderline, worthless Mingvars during an earthquake fragile.

And this was proven when Zimbabwe's finance minister, Tendai Biti, revealed that at one point earlier this week, Zimbabwe only had $217 left in its public accounts after paying civil servants.

He quickly countered that, saying that the following day, $30 million of revenue had been paid in, and then accused journalists of stirring up trouble, saying, you journalists are mischievous and malicious.

The point I was making was that the Zimbabwean government doesn't have the funds to finance the election, to finance the referendum.

So he's saying, don't panic, Andy, but I'm afraid that chicken has long since sacheted out of the coupe.

Especially as he followed up that revelation by revealing that they now essentially can't afford elections anymore.

Oh, that should settle people down.

Don't worry about only having $217.

I was trying to make the much larger point that there's no way we have enough money for democracy anymore.

Okay, it's everyone calm now.

Good.

Yeah, £217, that's about £138 in real money.

That's not a lot for a country like Zimbabwe.

That is barely enough to buy 20 decent quality cudgels for Robert Mugabe's goons.

Democracy is

annoyingly expensive, John.

I mean, you see, I reckon clearly an election does cost more than $217.

We get the same thing here

in this country.

The government bangs on about wanting to save money by streamlining politics, saving just minuscule fractions off the national budget whilst allowing tax to be basically voluntary if you're a big enough company.

So this is not just a Zimbabwean problem.

And we can laugh at this, John.

Zimbabwe only having $217 left in its account because we in the West have absolutely f ⁇ loads of money in our accounts.

Admittedly, all of it is pretend and most of it is negative money, but that is still loads of money, John.

Loads of money.

It's loads.

It's loads.

The numbers big.

That's the only important thing.

Ah apparently Zimbabwe needs nearly two hundred million dollars to pay for their election, as well as a referendum on a new constitution, which they are now going to attempt to source from donors.

And what could possibly go wrong there, Andy?

It's not like rich people donating money for a constitutional referendum would expect something in return for that, say, I don't know, something in the constitution about how they're allowed to hunt people from helicopters every five years.

I'm sure they wouldn't be interested in something like that.

Actually, I wonder how much it would cost as a donation, Andy, to have the Bugle constitutionally recognised as the official podcast of Zimbabwe.

Because that would be tempting.

Well, Buglers, I mean, we're going to have to offer a pretty decent sum, so get your voluntary subscriptions flooding in.

And we will attempt to take over Zimbabwean politics.

See, See, Andy, there's the British side of us, which cannot help, but even though doing it half of a joke, there is still an imperialist intent behind that suggestion.

Finance Minister, Mr.

Beekey,

attempted to control this panic by putting things in perspective, saying we're in a challenging position, we're a small economy, and we've got huge things to be done.

But the Minister for Finance of Greece has an even worse story.

Wow, that is a classless move from that Zimbabwean.

Just leave him alone, but I've got to say, when struggling African governments are making fun of you, Greece, your economy is familiar.

Gambia news now, and well, we talk about all the problems in the global economy and around Africa.

Gambia has the perfect solution.

The president

Yayar Jame has suggested a four-day week for public sector workers with Fridays as an extra day off.

Now, he's claiming this is to give Gambia's mainly Muslim population more time to pray as well as socialize and tend to fields.

Whereas his critics have said it's going to promote laziness and disrupt the economy.

Well, I mean, John, this is one of the greatest economic moves in the history of humanity.

It's sound economic.

Laziness makes economic sense.

As I'm assured, all economists from Adam Smith via J.K.

Galbraith to John Maynard Keynes would testify if they were being honest.

Are there any economists apart from them?

I think those are the only three so far.

But

let me explain this, John.

Why is there unemployment in the world?

Well, of course, experts will tell you it's because of stuff like people not having jobs, in other words, being unemployed.

Others will add that it's because of the jobs market inevitably struggling to keep up with the technology world.

So that, say, in publishing, a single computer with a printer can now do in 10 minutes what it used to take a squad of 500 monks about a year and a half to do without the slightly over-flashy layout as well.

Others will say that globalisation has exacerbated the issue of unemployment in the West, as simple human nature proves that whilst a boss might enjoy blowing cigar smoke directly into the eyes of staff in his own country, he gets even more turned on by the thought that for half the price, he can indirectly blow smoke into the eyes of six times as many workers.

The point is that a four-day week would kill unemployment stone dead.

If you have an unemployment rate of 20%,

if you forcibly give people 20% more time off, they will get 20% less work done.

So employers will then have to employ 20%

more people.

Bonjour, monsieur, full employment.

Mercy,

Professor Mathematics.

You cannot argue with facts, John.

You can try, but it won't work.

It's even harder to argue with something that sounds like a fact, but demonstrably isn't.

There's just no way into that argument.

Look, I don't know anything about Gambia, John, because they've never qualified for a major international football tournament or won an Olympic medal.

But still, I'm prepared to accept that they're absolutely bang on the banana with this one.

They are right as a nut because not only would it solve unemployment, it would also boost leisure spending.

You know, that's an extra day dicking about.

It's going to make everyone happier, more time off, give people more time to shop, cook and eat properly, exercise more, read, play parlor games, write sonnets and court each other romantically, all making people more relaxed and productive.

at work.

Now, because for my one year of having a real job, and by real, I don't mean real, I mean sitting in an office thinking, oh shit, I've got to get out of this, I can testify that no one does anything on a Monday apart from think, shit, it's only seven days until next weekend is over, what's the fing point?

So a four-day week is going to make us all healthier, more intelligent, people with happier marriages, who will therefore live longer and happier lives, which in the West is the last thing we want.

We already can't afford pensions.

We need people being unhealthy, miserable and trapped in loveless marriages.

Economically, that is the only thing keeping us afloat.

So on reflection, this scheme has both plus sides and minus sides.

South African news now.

And well, South Africa, Andy, your homeland, of course.

Well, I mean, I guess everyone's homeland, but more recently, your homeland.

It's had some genuinely fantastic news this week.

South Africa's richest black man, Patrice Modsepe, has announced that he is giving away half of his wealth to improve the lives of the poor.

He was born in the Soweto Township, which, incidentally, Andy of course was the site just a couple of years ago of John Oliver scoring a sensational free kick against a Soweto football team.

Hipped over the wall, in off the bottom of the crossbar, completely unstoppable.

Anyway, that's not the point.

It's a different point.

It's a good point, but it's not the point we're making here.

The point is, he is a lawyer by training and he's South Africa's first and only black billionaire.

He founded his publicly traded mining conglomerate, African Rainbow Minerals, which has interests in platinum, gold, coal and other minerals and that is where he has generated most of his money.

He also owns a Pretoria-based football club called the Mamalodi Sundowns and you see Andy he is proving that you can be a businessman who owns a football team and not just automatically be a qualified

Mr.

Moffa said that he was inspired to do this by the spirit of Ubuntu, an African belief system which translates as I am because you are, meaning that individuals need other people to be fulfilled.

He said South Africans are caring, compassionate and loving people.

It has always been part of our culture and tradition to assist and care for less fortunate and marginalized members of our communities.

I mean that's a lovely sentiment Andy.

I would to have the stipulation that's not so much in recent history been the culture of white South Africa.

I think you have to add an asterisk there.

That culture was occasionally lacking in compassion for marginalised members of society.

Occasionally, a bit.

Not all of them, Andy, but enough.

Didn't get what I'm trying to say.

They were just stockpiling the compassion joints so they could split it all at a later date.

They were compassion volcanoes.

They were just lying dormant for decades.

Very, very dormant indeed.

Well, this is Bugle issue 222.

And to mark this very special occasion, a special, exclusive reader offer for issue 222.

You get 2% off your Bugle voluntary subscription for you and two friends you introduce to the Bugle.

That's right, 2% off a figure of your choosing that you decide you'd like to pay for 52 weeks of premium grade fact per year or month or week.

So say if you were thinking of donating £30 a year, this week's special 222 reduction, you'd only have to contribute £29.40.

If it was $6 a month you were thinking of forking out.

You could save yourself literally 12 cents a month.

Can you afford to turn your self-proclaimed nose up at that?

Yes, you can.

But should you.

No.

Thanks to all of you, have already voluntarily subscribed to the world's most influential audio newscast, the audio equivalent of the Financial Times, the Wall Street Journal, Pravda, the Journal of Political Economy, Dipravda, that's the ratio tabloid version of Pravda, Australian Women's Weekly, You and Your Brick Monthly, and the teen magazine Bliss, all rolled into one easily ignorable 40-minute Pavlova of misinformation.

However, we do know that by a process of simple mathematics, that's adding things up with bits of wood your dog has found on its walkies, there are still loads of you buglers out there who've been too excited by the prospect of being able to pay for the past, current, and future bugles that you've listened to for nothing up to now, that you've just been too excited to do it.

You've been dancing around, bouncing up and down, and unable to sit down at your computer.

Go to www.thebuglepodcast.com, click on the voluntary subscriptions link, and do your bit to help keep this podcast going.

So

if you can find a couple of minutes in your day to do that, buglers, this is the week to do it.

2% off for this week only.

So maybe you could factor that in and give 1% more than you were planning to give in the first place and thinking you'd still get a discount.

The point is, it's a sensational offer, Andy.

It's a sensational offer.

I mean, just wait for Bugle 333.

I just cannot wait to hear how that dominates your every thought process, Andy.

Yeah, so if you want the Bugle to last that long, then take advantage of the Bugle 222 often.

Your emails now, and we have an email here from Dan, who had a dream.

He said, Dear Andy Warhol, John Cena, and Christmas tree shop, according to the suggestions given to me by Google Auto Fill In when I type your first names in.

He said

well,

you've got to be pleased with that, John.

You've got to be pleased with that.

Yeah, I'll definitely come out of that well.

In fact, to be honest, I think we all did.

Anyway, the point is, I had a dream last night in which John had been bitten by all five of the exotic venomous snakes in his exotic venomous snake collection.

I mean, I brought that up myself in your dream, I think.

He lay there crying for help, and I was the only one nearby.

I quickly dialed 911, but was dismayed that the operator didn't seem to understand the immediacy of the situation.

After trying numerous times together to send someone from poison control.

I ultimately screamed into the phone, damn it, you have to help, the bugle depends on it.

Let this be a warning to Oliver to give up your obsession with collecting exotic venomous snakes.

Saying that, let this be a warning to never come to me with your exotic venomous snake bite-related problems.

Best Dan.

That's well that is good to know, Andy.

Well, it's clearly, I mean, reading the subconscious of that, as there is in any dream, is uh

you know, the the the venomous snakes clearly stand for your venomous satire, John.

That's it.

I didn't even think of interpreting it as anything other than completely literal.

That's very good, Andy.

This one comes in from an 11-year-old who writes, Dear John, Andy, and Chris, in order of who I'm most likely to see, as I live in the Bay Area.

Depends which bay.

I may be the youngest.

Bay of pigs, Andy.

Probably the Bay of Pigs.

I I may be the youngest bugler ever.

I'm 11.

Wow.

I don't know if we've had that.

I think that is the youngest so far.

The youngest that's emailed in.

We've had a few potato prints emailed in, so let's assume they're from younger ones.

I'm 11, but I've heard on the podcast that John is in the new Smurfs movie.

I personally wish there would be a communist Russian Smurf society that blitzed the Smurf village like Russia storming Berlin.

Oh my God, he's a better 11-year-old than I was, aren't he?

However, as much as I despise the Smurfs

Come on!

No one despises the Smurfs.

No one does.

He despises the Smurfs, but clearly approves of the excesses of Stalinist Russia.

Anyway.

However, as much as I despise the Smurfs, I will watch it simply because John is in it.

Good, do that.

If he's a communist and or German Smurf dictator and or attacking the Smurf village.

P.S.

Screw you, Chris.

I would say that that particular 11-year-old may have psychotic dictatorial tendencies, Andy.

It's all funny now, isn't it?

Until that 11-year-old becomes president and starts to try and take over the world.

He also sounds like an 11-year-old who's just been sat in front of the television by his parents as they spend the afternoon drinking with the history channel on.

Flicking between the history channel and the Smurf and getting a bit confused about where reality ends and fiction begins.

We have another great email here from Damien, who says, Dear Chris, John, and Andy, in order of financial gain in the event of the zombie attack, catastrophe,

hardened to read this week to England invading Mali, as we've just mentioned.

He says, Way to go.

This means only twenty-one left of the twenty-two countries England has yet to invade, as recorded in Bugle 215.

That is phenomenal, Andy.

He goes on to say, go you good things, and bring us back some of those sweet Mali tiger skins.

Oh, what?

It's an Africa, no tigers.

Well, how about picking us up some statues then?

Um, sarcophagy, sarcophaguses?

No, can't spell that.

Come on, there must be something in Timbuktu worth stealing.

No, wait, I meant liberating.

Preserving, yes, I think it's preserving.

On English soil where it rightly belongs, a preserve.

Oh, what's this?

You have a repository of rare books and manuscripts in Timbuktu whose current whereabouts is totally unknown.

Jolly good show, chaps.

Singing Royal Britannia.

Keep the bullshit going.

FUC, Damien.

Yeah, I mean, this is something that is quite exciting.

I mean, there's always a.

every cloud has a silver lining.

And that's very good, isn't it?

It's very good to knock one off that list.

That's a tough list, that 22.

You put a line through it.

That's very good.

So, thank you to the Islamist extremists who've made this all possible and given.

Yeah,

in fact, we can completely turn this bugle around from where it does.

We need to start recording this again, Andy, with that in mind.

The context has completely changed it.

So, do keep your emails coming into info at thebuglepodcasts.com, and there'll be more of those next week.

Sport now and, well, this Sunday, John, it's the biggest sporting events in the history of the universe.

Super Bowl 47.

And what a week to have it in.

Bugle 222.

222, of course, the record score in a college football game.

Andy, have some numeric discipline.

It's just, it's three of the same numbers.

That's all it is.

But 222 is the record score in a college-American football game when Georgia Tech beat Cumberland College 222-0 in 1916.

That's running up the scoreboard.

You make no friends that way.

Disappointing performance from Cumberland.

To be fair, they had disbanded their football team the year before, but had to pay, had to play, or they'd incur a fine of $3,000.

So they just turned up with a load of guys and got mashed.

That's proper sporting spirit, John.

So Super Bowl 47, it's the Brother Bowl, John.

The two brother head coaches.

One is going to end up Romulus and one's going to be Remus

come Sunday evening.

What's your prediction, John?

Well,

this is a very tough one to call, Andy.

I believe that Vegas is going with the 49ers by four points.

I think it's going to be closer than that.

I can't call it, Andy.

I think probably San Francisco are going to win.

Right.

So if I was you, Andy, I would put your entire house on that.

Because I mean, it sounds like it's going to come down to the very fine margins like which quarterback has the less greasy lunch.

That's really got to affect your grip on the ball.

Which team ends up spending Saturday night in the New Orleans jazz club until 5 a.m.

And which team scores more points?

That could be absolutely crucial.

And also, which set of cheerleaders, which set of cheerleaders more unequivocally expresses the wonders of gender stereotyping in the 21st century?

These will be crucial factors.

And the key could come down to a a couple of key plays.

You know, could the 49ers rookie quarterback Colin Kaepernick spring scuttle back our bottle scrange on a good beef jerky route through Ray Lewis and the Ravens watermelon in a bucket defence?

Can Ravens playmaker Joe Flacco find receipt wider Jamilius regret with an underarm snuggle pass on a woodpecker flat at left field?

There's so much to look forward to in this annual game of high-stakes fight chess.

That is a good way of putting it.

But the real money, Andy, the smart money goes not on the Super Bowl, but on the puppy bowl, which, as people in America know, takes place every year before the Super Bowl as a TV channel puts a bunch of puppies in a pit, throws a football in there, and basically tries to keep score on what happens, which is largely puppies chewing on the ball and shipping.

I don't know how the point of that works up, but all I know, Andy, is that I have a hot tip that chestnuts, the puppy chestnut is really going to bring it this year.

So put your money on whatever team Chestnut is playing for.

See, your half-time show is always the Shobis highlight of the year.

Controversial choice this year.

The late Glenn Miller sadly cancelled.

He had agreed to come out of the grave for one last hurrah.

He hopped on a plane to New Orleans, just disappeared.

Can't help it.

Can't kick that out of it.

John, it's going to be a very awkward Christmas in the Harbour household.

What do you want for Christmas, love?

Oh, mum, I want a ring like he's got.

Well, if you want a ring like he's got, then he's going to have to have a loser's hat like you've been wearing since February.

So with this special Super Bowl bugle, we have a prize quiz in which if you get the answer to this question right,

you could play for the Baltimore Ravens in the Super Bowl.

If you do get the answer right,

just turn up in New Orleans wearing some Baltimore-type kit with a helmet and say, I've won this competition.

Can I please be on the bench?

The question is, why are the Ravens called the Ravens?

Is it because, A, when the franchise then known as the Cleveland Browns won their first match in 1944 their starting quarterback Frampton Lescarp was playing with two live ravens tucked down his trousers.

If one of the birds squawked he'd call a running play.

If they both squawked he'd call a passing play.

If neither squawked he'd do a quarterback sneak and if one laid an egg he'd go for a trick play.

Lescarp's Ravens went 4-0 at the start of the season before both were injured.

Albert Raven broke a wing after Lescarp was sacked by horndog Capelhane of the San Diego Snouts, and Geraldine Raven had her beak depointed when Lescarp took an overhurled snapback in the nuts from the Brown centre Cornelian Jay Skankhammer.

Was it because B, they were named after the Edgar Allan Poe poem The Raven?

They could have been called the Baltimore Annabelle Lees, the Baltimore Conqueror Worms, or perhaps most intriguingly, the Baltimore Premature Burials, if the titles of Poe's works were being used.

or was it because C, the franchise only employs players with jet black raven hair.

It's always operated a strict hair colour code, always has throughout its franchise history.

Of course, began, as I said, as the Cleveland Browns, then became the Jamestown Gingers, the Santa Barbara Strawberry Blondes, and most famously of all, Miami Bald.

So if you can get one of those

right, then you will win a place on the team.

And the right to take out a Bugle voluntary subscription at thebuglepodcast.com.

I can tell you that the 49ers are called the 49ers because 49 AD was when the Jews were kicked out of Rome and they decided to commemorate that in the name of their franchise.

Makes sense.

Yep.

So that's it

for.

I'm predicting a draw, John.

I think it's going to be

a shared Super Bowl this year.

That's nice.

That'll be nice, wouldn't it?

Yeah.

That'll be a lovely gesture.

It's going to turn up.

They just say, well,

let's both share it.

You have it for six months, we'll have it for six months.

Well, let's cut it in half.

Let's cut it in half, Solomon style, and see which brother shall give it to the other brother then.

Be a lovely gesture, and a symbol of peace for a troubled world.

So you have it in your hands, the Harbor brothers, to solve all the world's war problems.

Tune in next week to the Bugle to find out whether they have taken that chance.

We'll be back with Bugle 223 with John, hopefully, in slightly slightly better sonic quality than he's been on his mobile phone from Denver.

That's it, Buglers.

Until next week, goodbye.

Bye!

And don't forget, you can check out our SoundCloud page at soundcloud.com/slash the hyphen bugle.

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.