The Wireless Mystery Theatre: An Investigation

As any successful republican should, it is my cherished aim to personally replace monarchs in their unelected positions of power. And so it was only right and proper of me to muscle septuagenarian, funkmeister & early bookies’ favourite George Clinton out of the way to claim the patronhood of the Wireless Mystery Theatre

This Northern Irish-based group of young creatives is one I have admired for many, many years. Since founding in 2010, they have… done much good work… in the third sector? Euthanizing disabled dogs? Erm… (Edit: Wireless Mystery Theatre transports the audience back to the Golden Age of radio, to be AWED! and AMAZED! as they present radio plays live on stage. You are offered a peek through the studio’s perspex glass to watch the live music, the hand-cranked sound effects, the ‘radio personalities,’ and the old-time commercials all as they happen.)

Imagine then my sense of horror, embarrassment and even auto-epicharikaky when I awoke from my mid-day nap to find the Wireless History Theatre had used their Twitter account to make a host of unfounded allegations against me. So enraged was I that if I’d been in Wimbledon rather than Catford I would have beaten a greyhound about the face with my own codpiece.

I feel I must categorically deny their allegations. Their libellous comments in undeserved bold, mine in the red of a cose-to-breakdown teacher…

Well, @FreeSouthLondon has accepted the offer to be WMT patron and has already stormed into the office and been very patronising indeed. [Admittedly, I retweeted this one. It’s not even remotely true, but it placed me in a position of being the dominant alpha male, which I see as a vote winner in the forthcoming London Mayor election…]

“Oh, yes, very good,” he said to one of our actors, “But have you considered playing it in a Dulwich accent?” [Now this is where it turns nasty. Everyone knows that the real accent of the real decent salt-of-the-earth types who really go to real Dulwich Hamlet matches pronounce it “Daahlitch”.]

He has leafed condescendingly through our accounts and described them as “Pre-revolutionary… but that will change.” [Admittedly this was another one I was tempted to retweet, even though by this stage my legal team were involved, for it positions me – as I am – at the forefront of the exhilarating headfirst rush into the teleological buffers.]

He has torn up our constitution, demanded we separate from the tyrannical ITC, and given 2 thumbs up to our version of Dead Man in Deptford. [I don’t even know what an ITC is! And whilst I may well give two thumbs up to a performance of A Dead Man In Deptford, after this acrimony they are likely to be anally inserted.]

Now he is “strongly suggesting” to the musical director that the WMT theme tune be replaced with this: [Yes, we can all revel in the nonsense of Pimlico, first stop of the transpontine deserter, but since I wasn’t actually there in their office, I fancy some scallywag foolishly looked at its SW1V postcode and assumed it south of the thames…]

Why, when he says “strongly suggest,” does he accent each syllable with that blackjack? [A shameful allegation that I brandish a small club to threaten people. Not true. It’s a bloody great spiked cricket bat.]

I should think it prudent for you to follow them on Twitter or keep a regular peeled eye upon the website so you can organise protests against them should their show ever tour in your town.



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