Radio Gaga is a work in progress . I am looking for a publisher but so far with little success. An extract is posted here I would appreciate any comments you may have you can contact me via the email link on the home page. Hope you enjoy reading it.

Friday

Roy Robison's "I drove all night" was just fading as the Radio came to life. Which was rather appropriate as that's exactly what I had just done.

Big Roy gave way to a station indent "Calderwood, Calderwood, listen to us you know you should" This was sung in a fetching Mid Atlantic accent. Which would have been all very well had the sign by the road said welcome to Denver, instead of "M 74 Hamilton and Motherwell one mile" as it did. I'd been tuned in to 101.6 for the last 20 miles so I could pick up the station as soon as possible: I wanted to get a feel for the station style. As the new Programme Controller, It was the least I could do.

"It's just coming up to Ten past eight and your listening to the breakfast show on Calderwood FM. I'm Alan Scott, coming up next the weather and travel for the Calderwood FM area, that'll be at 8.15, round about 8.20 this morning I'll be speaking to Ann Massey from the Job Centre, for our regular Friday morning job spot. At 8.30 as always, we've got the National and Local news headlines. Here's "Del Amitri" and according to them "Nothing Ever Happens" their certainly not talking about this place that's for sure."

"Services one mile" announced the sign. It had been about one hundred and fifty miles since my last coffee. Which for me was a hundred to many. Plugers [people who's job it is to encourage Radio presenters to play a particular track] often talk about Radio friendly songs. Which probably means the lyrics contain one of the following words: Cigarettes, Alcohol, Love, Road, Radio or Coffee. Put any of these words in the lyrics of your song and it will get airtime, especially Coffee, it's a fact of life I kid you not.

I wanted to hear a bit more of Alan Scott so coffee would have to wait till the Little Chef just out side Cumbernauld. I ran Scott's last link over in my mind. Alan had a good radio voice, warm, deep and friendly and believe me on radio that's the most important thing. If the voice is right you can work on the rest. The aim is to be as natural as possible, the listeners can spot an act a mile away. You can of course do voice exercises to enhance the natural timbre of your voice and many of the top names do. Visit the bogs of any station shortly before the hour and you'll hear them at it, lots of deep throat groaning, some even do the odd voice exercise.

Yes Alan had the voice and he didn't run it like a souped up chain saw. On the evidence so far he hadn't crashed the vocals [speaking over the lyrics at the start or end of a song: one of my pet hates]. He'd given the time well "It's just coming up to Ten past eight." Some presenters insist on telling you it's Eight minutes and Twenty Three seconds past Eight. Rule number 21 of the Lewis Gray school of Radio Presenting "If you want to be a speaking clock work for British bloody Telecom".

I wasent so keen on "The Weather for the Calderwood FM area" he was hardly going to give them the weather for South friging Devon was he? The track was fading, most morning shows will have targets to aim for at least every quarter of an hour. These could be things like the local weather, news or what's on. I checked my watch, it was exactly Eight Fourteen. A jingle came on "your listening to the Calderwood mix on One ooh One point Six" then two ad's, and the weather Jingle. At precisely Eight Fifteen Alan said "Its quarter past Eight so it's over to Anna for the Weather.

"It looks like the settled spell we've been having, is coming to an end this morning. Rain will move in from the West becoming heavy by early afternoon. The wind will gradually increase from fresh to strong, perhaps even gale later. This could lead to difficult driving conditions with roads being affected by heavy rain and spray, this Afternoon. Maximum Temperature just 8 deg C."

Anna again had a nice warm voice and she had that Autoritive, slightly bossy yet coy delivery which comes across well for Women on the Radio. Positions have a lot to do with it: Mic positions that is. Above head height for most Men and at chest level for most Women. 

The travel jingle came on and again it was Anna "Traffics moving well this morning in to both Glasgow and Edinburgh, but a broken down lorry is causing problems, blocking one lane of the M9 North of Stirling. So if your heading North this morning allow extra time. Calderwood traffic and weather next update in half an hour."

"Thanks for that Anna, now its time for our driving dedication. This morning it's for John Stewart from Denny. He's heading to work in Dunblane and he asked for Deacon Blue and "Dignity." Hope your not being held up on the M9 John. By the sound of the weather this afternoon you'll probably need a ship called Dignity. You don't work for the council do you? Don't forget the Job spots up next, it's eighteen minutes past Eight on Calderwood FM"

Not to bad, Alan hit the weather bang on. Not many people realise the importance of regular features being spot on time but listeners subconsciously rely on them. A picture drifted in to my mind of a harassed Mother screaming at the kids getting ready for school "Come on that's the weather. Shoes on now!"

The link between Alan and Anna had been nice and professional no inane banter. She could have made a reference to the difficult driving conditions expected later, in the travel spot. Though she'd probably decided to skip it, having mentioned it in the weather just seconds before. But why script it like that in the first place?

Alan picked up well on the dedication that John would be travelling on that road with the problem. He also got a good link in about the lyrics of the song. People who didn't know the song or hadn't heard it for a while might be scratching their heads for a few seconds but when they heard the lyrics, the link would make sense and they would smile, or think that blokes a smarmy git, but then again you cant please every one. It all showed he was listening and was switched on. A essential skill for any presenter.

Picture the scene: The national news is on, lead story is a major plane crash. Your trying to cue up the next track, the Programme controller is telling you in one ear there is going to be an extra bulletin on the half hour due to the plane crash. Someone is passing you a bit of paper with an announcement about a jumble sale. CD player one which you had ready, has decided to eject its CD [ it will transpire later that some turkey in the production studio next door was playing with a remote control, which being Infra Red will work through the glass between studios] The bulletin is ending. Never fear you are a true professional. CD player two will be ready to go. If only you could remember what was in it.

In circumstances such as these the following will be heard from CD Two "My bags are packed I'm ready to go" At this point a switched on presenter will close the fader for CD Two hit the eject button and boot the CD across the studio while calmly opening the mic and explaining  "Sorry about that, few gremlins in the system this morning lets have a word from our sponsors while we sort ourselves out." The less switched on will let it run and soon will hear "I'm leaving on a jet Plane don't know when I'll be back again." At this point the programme controller will enter in a hurry eject the offending CD and advise you to follow the advice of the opening lyric.

Coming back to Alan again, I wasn't so keen on "It's Seventeen minuets past Eight on Calderwood FM" was it going to be any different in Stirling or Cumbernauld? On the whole not to bad but those jingles were going to have to go.

At the Little Chef the waitress showed me to a smoking table. I ordered Coffee and an early starter without even looking at the menu. As we entered the new Millennium the Little Chef Early Starter was one the few British Institutions we hadn't sold off yet. I lit up my first of the day [I was at that time still trying to cut down] and watched the traffic thundering by on the Dual Carriageway. It was only three weeks ago that my predecessor had piled in to the back of an Artic just outside this very window.

Andy James had been doing Seventy on his Kawasaki, the truck in front braked, Andy didn't and that had been that. "Your only as good as your last show" is a Radio saying and Andy had done his just twenty minutes before, a right belter to by all accounts.  A wise old head, who looked as if Marconi might have been his first programme controller once told me "Treat every show as if it's your last, one day you'll be right."

Presenter/ Programme Controller was my new job title, the presenting bit related to the Treble-T show [Ten till Two]. Most of the small ILR stations [ Independent Local Radio] have just three presenters covering day time from Six AM till Six P.M. A typical day starts at Six in the Morning with the Breakfast show which runs till Ten, then we have the Treble-T and finally the Drive Time show from Two till Six.

So Andy's sad demise was the reason I was sitting in the Little Chef at Cumbernauld preparing to take up a new post. Well it was one of the reasons. Ten days ago I'd been a minor star of Radio in the Home Counties. Presenting the drive time show on Home FM. And doing it very well if I do say so myself. The Breakfast show presenter was moving on to better things, and I had my eye on that slot. So it came as no surprise when the MD called me in. "The thing is Lewis, you've been making a good fist of drive time, and of course these things get noticed, and not just by me you know. You've got a bright future in this industry."

Here it comes I thought.

"Ever thought of moving up a rung" he continued.

"Yes I have and the Breakfast show would be the next logical step" I replied

"Oh no I think your talents lie in a different direction, more management say presenter programme controller."

Shit this was even better "The programme controllers leaving as well?" I asked incredulously.

"No but I know of a vacancy. Ideal post for someone like you, about to make the leap in to management."

Now I did have a vague career plan in place, but that involved leaping on to the Breakfast show, and then on to a National or Maybe even TV. The odd "Top of the Pops" perhaps. Pretending that I liked dance music or a succession of Irish boy bands with a talent for butchering classic hits. On second thoughts I'd give it a miss, the temptation to whack the gobby one from Steps might prove a bit to much. Or there was always the Lottery Show it was only a mater of time. Andy Wharhol said that "Every one would have their fifteen minuets of fame." If he'd been around today that would probably change that to "Will present the National lottery show weather they want to or not."

The penny as they say was finally beginning to drop.

"This is about the Jones thing isn't it?"

The Jones in question was Hugo Jones the sales Director and the thing was what I'd been having with his wife. It all ended in tears [doesn't it always] I wanted to move on she didn't so what does she do? She tells her husband all about it. He throws her out. She goes to live with her mother, he punches me, I punch him, we make up, have a drink that kind of thing. There had been a bit of an atmosphere at the time but I thought we had come through the worst of it. Created quite a spread in the local rag as well.

Fists fly at Four

Listeners to Home FM were surprised to here four tracks played in a row just after Four yesterday Afternoon. Could this be a new feature? Not unless bare knuckle fighting and kick boxing have been introduced to the schedule.

An informed source told the Gazette that trouble flared just after the news.

Drive Time presenter Lewis Gray had just started playing the first track of the hour, when Advertising sales Director Marcus Jones stormed in and started punching, the well known presenter about town, about the studio.

The ensuing fracas ran to some fifteen minutes and reached farcical proportions as both men called a truce every three minutes to allow Gray to change the music and play the adverts.

The altercation was only brought to a conclusion when MD Graham Charles intervened.

Both participants were bruised but other wise uninjured although it was reported that Jones had to remove a Mini disc containing adverts sold by himself, from an inappropriate place.

We are unable to confirm the reason for this altercation, but when asked why no other male on the premises had intervened earlier, our source said that most of the other males in the building thought he had it coming to him.

It would appear the MD was the only one not to have had injured feelings where Gray was concerned and according to our source he probably just hadn't got round to it yet.

When asked for comment MD Graham Charles said "I never discuss the internal affairs of the Radio Station."

"The thing is, Marcus and his wife are trying for a reconciliation."

"Good for them so what's the problem? Marcus and I have patched up our differences."

"The thing is" he continued "The thing is Allison wants her old job back [she had been running the record Library and her Job hadn't yet been filled] and she doesn't think she could come back whilst your still on the station, you can see how it would be difficult for her can't you?

To be honest I couldn't.

Look old boy we can't carry on with an unhappy ship can we?"

I was perfectly happy thank you very much, but obviously from the direction this conversation was taking, not for much longer. I stayed silent no point in making it easy for him. 

He was looking down at the desk "Look Lewis lets not fart about" he said and then continued to fart about "Look you know the score old chap, you know how it is."

I know exactly how it is. Someone, I forget who, when asked to define Commercial Radio, said this. "The purest definition of a commercial radio station, it's whole reason for existence is to deliver an audience to an advertiser."

Marcus was very good at what he did which was delivering lots of advertisers. The MD probably figured that what I did, delivering the Audience could be done equally well by any number of other people. Not to mention with new presenters on both breakfast and drive time the station could have a nice reliance. New line up, same old stuff, lots of press coverage that kind of thing. Oh I nearly forgot Alison's Father was a director of our parent company. That's what the thing really was.

"My hands are tied Lewis you can see that can't You."

I said I could.

"Look what I was saying earlier. Old friend of mine [ everybody's an old friend in Radio either that or an old enemy and sometimes it's hard to tell which] Brian Elliot at Calderwood FM [the groups only Scottish Station] is looking for a presenter / programme controller. I've already given him a ring. Jobs more or less yours if you want it, what do you say?"

What could I say? Calderwood wasn't exactly the jewel in the group crown, more the fly in the ointment. It was joked that their ratings were so low at times they switched off the transmitter and sent a taxi to bring the listeners to the studio.

I said "thank you very much" no point in making a scene I was on the way out, I needed a Job And at least this one was still with the same group.

I could see my future mapped out before me. Banished to the broadcasting fringes. Single handily and without the use of a hair net, our hero Lewis Gray, saves the ailing station. Returns in triumph to accept plaudits at the Sony Radio Awards presented by [if there's any justice] an adoring Kirsty Wark. Moves on to the Breakfast slot on the groups National station Decades FM [A rock of outstanding quality in our industry. And not so named, as the wags would have it because they only ever play the same ten tracks]

Graham interrupted my thoughts "Lewis there's just one more thing."

I knew what was coming next.

"In the circumstances, you leaving under a cloud, that sort of thing. Well the thing is the board feel it would be better if you didn't work your notice."

This was pretty much standard practice and in truth we both knew no matter how professional I was the temptation to dedicate "Big Panty Lady" to Allison might prove a bit much.

And so like Andy James I'd done my last show without even knowing it, mind you that's the way it is in Radio at least they let you finish your programme first. No point in having a scene while they drag you kicking and screaming from the studio, and nail your replacement in without so much as a minuets silence.

On the subject of silences that's why the faders [ a bit like the volume control on your HI FI ] on BBC and Commercial Radio mixing desks work the opposite way round. The BBC of course have been in the broadcasting game for a fair bit longer than the independents, back when Marconi really was a programme controller. The story goes that some engineer in the BBC was worrying about what would happen if some poor chap expired at the mixing desk [well you do don't you] so he arranged for the fader to work they had to be pulled towards you. In this way should you collapse you would push all the faders away from you [off] and there would be a respectful silence whilst your colleagues hauled you out, the next presenter presumably starting with the last post.

Commercial radio operators on the other hand are more worried about dead air [ silence] than dead presenters. So on commercial desks the faders have to be pushed away to make them work. Thus the same expiring chap would open all the faders emitting a cacophony of sound thus avoiding the dreaded dead air. Having said that dead air can be a powerful tool if you know how to use it. People often mentally tune out of the Radio, its there in the background burbling away. But its only when it goes quiet that your brain says something's changed and without fail you will turn to look at the Radio. If there are other people around they will turn to look too.

This method of getting peoples attention is extremely effective as long as its not overdone, advertisers use it and skilled interviewers often just before making a telling point.

When I left Grahams office, there sitting large as life was Alistair Russell. In the teaching profession they have supply teachers to cover for illness, well in Radio they have supply presenters and Alistair Russell was a fine example of the species.

He looked me straight in the eye and grinned " Enjoy Scotland" he said.

"Enjoy drive time" I replied. In Radio the undertaker arrives before you know your dead.

I phoned Brian Elliot straight away.

"When can you come?" he asked.

"For an interview you mean?"

"No need for that, more or less an internal appointment after all."

Strangest job interview I'd ever had.

The Waitress arrived with the coffee, "Terrible accident the other week" I said.

"The guy from the Radio, yeah, I used to listen to his show, tragic especially after the other two" she said shaking her head as she walked away.

"Excuse me!"

"yes" she said, turning back.

"You said the other two, what other two?"

"His predecessors of course, don't you read the papers? went on about it for days so they did" "Not where I live they didn't, so what happened?"

"Look I don't want to be rude but its only fifteen minuets till my shifts over and I've got to get on."

"Perfect I'll buy you a coffee."

The look she gave me, a sort of Ugh I've got Dog shit on my shoe look, suggested that she wasn't short of such offers and from better prospects to.

"I don't think so."

"Please just for five minuets this is really important to me" I said maintaing eye contact in my best interviewers style, smiling and trying not to look like a mad axe killer.

It obviously wasn't working. "Why the interest? " she asked stepping back. 

"I'm taking over his show."

"Ah Lewis Gray I presume" she said punctuating her statement by raising her eyebrows.

"Okay see you in fifteen minuets" and with that she was gone.

"Tragic accident" Brian Elliot had said when telling me about the death of Andy James. There was no mention of his predecessors. Whoever they might be.

I poured another coffee and mentally reviewed what I knew of Calderwood and the station that served it. I had been to Calderwood several times when I was learning the ropes with BBC Scotland. Calderwood was basically an over spill from the new town of Cumbernauld itself an over spill from Glasgow. Calderwood like Cumbernauld had been built from scratch and was located between Cumbernauld and Denny.

When I had last visited it had seemed prosperous riding high on the semiconductor. In recent times I had caught the odd news report of problems with drugs and gang related shootings, but there had been nothing like that for the last few years so I had assumed that problem had gone away.

Calderwood FM had been born in 92 and served the area of Cumbernauld, Stirling, Dunblane and Alloa to the North and Grangemouth to the East.

Apart from the BBC, Radio Clyde, and Forth covered part of the area and the regional station Real Radio covered all of it. So there was a fair bit of competition.

"Hello again I've put these on your bill" she said indicating the two pots of coffee she had brought with her.

The badge on her uniform had given her name as Carol. She was about five Ten and had amazing legs which seemed to go on for ever. These as luck would have it terminated at her bum which was fine by me. The afore said Bum was tight and trim contained as it was in blue skin tight jeans. She was slim all the way up apart from her breasts of course, which were concealed by a baggy white jumper. Although I was sure that, were they ever to be revealed to a much put upon radio presenter they would turn out be perfectly acceptable.

She wore no make up and had piercing blue eyes. Her shoulder length hair was swept back behind her ears.

It had taken me only a millisecond to take all this in, but then again perhaps not because she snapped "Seen enough then or shall I do a little twirl?"

"I'm sorry was I staring?"

"Staring, more like bloody X-raying" she said as she sat down.

"You have me at a disadvantage" I said

"That's the way I have most men." She laughed

"The name, me Lewis Gray, you? "

"Carol Mackay."

"That's a Pity!"

"Why?"

"Well if your surname had been Mcoy, I'd have been able to joke that you were the real Mcoy which believe me you are."

"If surnames is the subject then yours is rather appropriate" she said giving me a look that would freeze hell.

"Oh!"

"Because Gray is the colour your going to go, shortly after bright Red, shortly after I pour hot coffee over your nuts."

The fact that she was picking up her bag and was starting to go convinced me that I'd got of to a bad start.

"I'm sorry sometimes I just can't help myself, please stay I really would like to find out what's been going on."

She hesitated "Listen Pal. I said I would have a coffee with you, give you some background at no point did I indicate that I was interested in being picked up [ she did her dog shit on the shoe look again] I have to put up with more than enough of that every day, and quite frankly mostly from better prospects than you, comprende?"

I said I did and she sat down again. And over coffee I learned something of the rest, Calum Smith ended up in an asylum [ Not a lot of difference from life in a Radio station there then] His replacement Grant Naylor was killed in a car crash two months later. And then, three months later in a tragic coincidence his replacement Andy James as we know smashed in to the back of a truck.

"Bit of a coincidence all of them presenting the same programme." I said.

"That's why there was so much media interest, apparently no one can get anything out of Calum, and no faults were found on Grants car."

"What about Andy James, when he crashed that must have raised a few eyebrows?"

"It sure did, the accident investigator were outside for days. But his tyres, brakes were all in good condition. He just rode in to the back of the lorry with apparently no attempt to brake at all."

"It's still a hell of a coincidence for all that."

"Especially when someone's being taking pot-shots at the Radio Station and Radio Car".

"your kidding right?"

"Well maybe I exaggerate a little, I mean the Radio Car hasn't been shot at for Two months but then again that's probably because no one takes it out anymore."

"How come you know so much about the station?"

"One of my best friends from University Anne Stuart is the engineer."

"Sound or Electronic?"

"Electronic , I'm one as well."

My mind had started to drift, what with dead presenters and shot up vehicles and all "One what?" I asked.

"Electronic Engineer."

As has been demonstrated in this very conversation I've got a habit of sometimes saying exactly what I'm thinking, without thinking if you know what I mean. So I nearly came out with "You can adjust my Knob anytime." Fortunately I paused and asked her "what an nice Electronic engineer was doing in a place like this."

It transpired that there was a slump in the electronics industry here bout's and "A Girl had to take what she could."

I explained that I to was an Electronic Engineer, or at least I had been when I was in the RAF and suggested that as I was a bit rusty, we might get together some time to discuss modern techniques. Strangely enough she agreed to go out with me the very next night. And just to keep the electronics theme going she also recommended a Hotel I could try "The Semiconductor Arms."

It was almost Five past ten when I pulled back on to the Dual carriage way, the Radio was still tuned to Calderwood which was only ten minutes away. A Fleetwood Mac track was just fading.

"Welcome to the show this morning. That was Fleetwood Mac with "The Chain" from their mega selling Rumours album. I'm Scott Mackenzie, here with you through till two. Coming up in the next hour we've got REM's latest effort, Big Country, Pulp, Dell Amitri and Tina simply the best Turner. Hey it's my last time with you today, it's been great hasn't it? But all good things come to an end don't they? Lewis Gray will be here from Monday: in fact I believe he's due in town this morning so all future correspondence to the show for his attention please."

As I pulled off the dual carriageway Big Country's "One great thing" was fading and Scott was in to his next link. Strangely once again he pointed out that this was his last time in temporary charge of the spot, and that Lewis Gray was winging his way "even as I speak" to take over.

I found myself in the Calderwood Industrial strip. The roundabout at the end of the slip road offered Industrial South, Industrial north and Town centre. I headed north and found myself on a dual carriage, running Paraell to and about Five hundred yards back from the main A80 I had been on.

There was industrial units to the Left and Right, some large some small. A general air of decay prevailed. Boundary fences were down, windows smashed and litter was strewn across the central reservation. As I travelled up the road things improved slightly, here and there some business's were trading. These had massive fences around them and security cameras covering every approach.

I glanced down at the faxed hand drawn map on the passenger seat. Straight across the next roundabout, left at the following. The traffic was fairly light, as I negotiated the first One I saw the roundabout where I had to turn about a mile ahead. A Red cavalier shot past in the outside lane. Where the fuc, whoosh another Cavalier blue this time screamed past. These guys must have been doing over eighty. Totally outrageous in a forty mile an hour limit I thought. Things were however about to get even more outrageous.

Everything seemed to go in to slow motion, a guy popped out of the sun roof of the blue Cavalier shotgun in hand. How he managed to stand up in the 80 mile an hour blast I don't know but stand up he did. Bang the back windscreen of the red cavalier disappeared.

What happened next I couldn't say. For I was now stationary having left two fifty yard skid marks up the road. And if truth be told my skid marks weren't confined to the road.

The two Cavaliers were well away by this time. The driver of the car behind, obviously as shook up as I was screeched to a halt behind me. On reflection it would seem that he was not quite as shocked as I had been. For he pulled to the right and passed me shaking his fist in anger as if to say "what's up haven't you seen a drive past shooting before?" and with that continued on his way as if such things were an everyday event.

Boy did I have a story for the news desk I thought as I turned Left at the roundabout. Calderwood FM was the second unit up and sat behind a large chain link security fence with barbed wire on top. The large metal gates were open but I still had to negotiate two speed bumps and a line of concrete pillars, strategically place in a slalom arrangement. Welcome to Beirut.

I parked beside the Radio car a Renault espace, which judging by it's four flat tires hadn't served it's intended purpose for quite some time. Two cameras peered down from above the entrance. A bubbly female voice emanated from the metal grill speaker on the wall "Welcome to Calderwood FM please state your business."

"I'm Lewis Gray the new programme controller."

"Please hold up some identification for the camera."

I pulled out my NUJ card and held it up to the camera, which zoomed in. Presently the door opened and I found myself in reception, which looked like reception at any station. Two sofas around a chrome and glass coffee table. Plush carpet on the floor and framed Awards on the walls, although what the hell these could be for I had no idea. The Receptionist sat behind a grand Horseshoe shaped desk, behind her was a window so you could see in to the main on air studio. The whole layout presumably dated from a time when visitors were more welcome.

"Welcome to Calderwood FM I'm Sue Smart."

"Sorry to be rude but where's the news room. "I said as I shook the extended hand.

The news room had four desks in the centre of the room each with a computer screen.

A television with the local teletext news was mounted on the left wall. Another computer and printer presumably connected to the IRN [Independent Radio News] data feed sat at a work station below it. At the back of the room in one corner was a small booth not much bigger than a couple of telephone boxes. This was presumably where the news Bulletins were read from. The rest of the back wall was taken up by a bench with two state of the art digital editing workstations and a couple of now outdated Revox reel to reel machines. It was at one of these that the sole occupant of the room sat.

A man in his late Fifties who was tall and stockily built. He certainly couldn't be described as athletic but then again neither could he be called a couch potato. From the look of him not to his face at any rate. Whilst he was challenged neither vertically nor horizontally the same certainly wasn't true in the follicle department.

Bits of quarter inch tape hung from his shoulders and his arms flew as he reeled the tape this way and that. China graph pencil and razor blade darting in and out as the tape was marked and cut. Unwanted words were dropped to the floor. Those worthy of further consideration added to the pile around his neck.

I coughed discretely, he ripped his headphones off and swivelled round

"Who the hell are you"? he inquired in a broad Glaswegian accent.

Those five words were enough for me realise that I was in the company of the legendary Len Ferguson. Even had I not been good at recognising people by their voice, I couldn't have failed to recognise the distinctive sound of the man who for me had been the voice of BBC Radio from the war zones of the World. So this is where he'd vanished to.

"Lewis Gray the new programme controller, and Your Len Ferguson."

"That's right Son, head of news" he extended his hand.

"I've got a great story for you" I blurted out as I shook his hand. By now I was hopping from one foot to the other, eager to get it down on tape.

"Do you need bog son, only its at the other end of the building."

"I've been caught up in a shooting incident."

"What, already, they usually let them get a few programmes in first."

"Programmes in."

"Before they start the threats, come to think of it they've never shot at the programme controller before, cars, building yes Programme controller no."

"At the programme controller! No they weren't shooting at me."

"Oh it'll just be drugies then" he said calm as you like.

"Just drugies does this happen often?"

"Nah couple of times a week tops."

"You don't seem very interested" I said accusingly, after I had told my story. My hopes of: "There's been a serious shooting incident today, Lewis Gray reports" were now fading.

"Look you said yourself they shot the back window out, if they'd been serious they'd have shot at the petrol tank. Have you ever seen what happens when a Remington pump action takes out a petrol tank at seventy?"

I had to confess I hadn't.

"It cures their drug problem that's for sure."

"So do you want me too do a script for the news?"

"Nah to much other news today."

I was some what startled by this. "Too much in the news to include a shooting incident, what's the lead story then?"

"Falkirk man grows four headed potato."

I looked at him incredulously.

"Well that's something you don't see every day."

"Going to give me a break Len and fill me in on what the frigs going on round here?"

"Look if you don't mind I've got to get on with this, but if your up for a pint tonight, we can talk about it then."

"I think it'll take more than a pint."

"Where are you staying?

"I haven't booked yet but someone I met today suggested the Semiconductor Arms"

" I'll pick you up there then about Eight.", a word of advice don't tell any one else at the station where you are just give them your mobile number. And don't tell anyone at the Semiconductor arms what you do OK." He reached in his pocket and withdrew a card.

"My mobiles on there any problems give me a ring."

"I'll leave you to it then, I better let Elliot know I'm here."

"You'll be lucky it's poets day."

"Poets Day?"

"Piss of early tomorrow's Saturday, only in Elliot's case he skips the piss of early bit by not coming in at all."

I said I'd see him later as I headed for the door.

"Lewis" he called after me.

"yes."

"Could you let me have copy of your CV."

"Sure but why?"

"It'll save me time when I have to write the obit."

Good joke I thought as I made my way back to reception. Problem was he wasn't laughing.

Back at reception I apologised to Sue. If there is one bit of experience I could pass on to young presenters it would be always get on with the receptionists. Not a thing gets past them, if it's happening in the station they'll know about it. Who's in, who's out and who's in and outing with who. But better still they will invariably have a secret stash of coffee.

I explained about the incident on the dual carriage way.

She accepted my apology with good grace "Those mutters ul end up killing some one so they wull" she said. "are you fur a coffee" she continued.

"Thanks I could murder one, NATO standard for me."

"NATO standard?" She queried.

"Sorry old Airforce expression, It means Two sugars and Milk."

"So You were in the Airforce then ?" she asked already amending the mental file she kept on all the station staff.

I told her that I had been.

"Do much flying?"

"Not really. I was in Electronics myself, just a couple of trips" The fact that they were 25 light years each way I kept to myself.

"Never mind, as my Dad used to say if God had men't us to fly he'd have given us tickets. Now normally you would have to use the machine in the admin. area, but since its your first day you can have some of mine." And with that, from some cubby hole she produced two cups, milk and sugar and a pot of fresh filter coffee.

"So Lewis what brings you to Calderwood FM?"

"Oh you know move in to management, step up the ladder."

"Is that right then? we heard it was because you had PTC."

"PTC?"

"Yeah poor trouser control, due to the fact they were permanently round your ankles." She laughed like a drain.

I decided to move the conversation to safer ground "I've heard Alan on Breakfast, and some of Scott. Who's on Drivetime?"

"Mike Martins, couldn't present a fart after a tin of beans that one. Now If I were you I'd give that twit the boot and hire Scott instead."

I said I would "keep it under consideration" And that since Scott would be shoving off after his show I'd better look in and say Hello. Given what I'd been hearing I also had a big favour to ask him.

"Don't say I didn't warn you." She said as I headed towards the studio suite door.

At Some point I will have to describe the lay out of Calderwood FM, but since today's still got a quite a way to go we'll leave that till tomorrow if that's okay with you.

Scott Johnstone was seated at the mixing desk leaning over to change a CD. I could see that he was relatively tall but then again most people are compared to my five foot six. He had a long face with sharply chiselled features to match and his long fair hair was tied in a pony tail. I'd say he was about the same age as myself which is closer to Forty than Thirty five. This would account for his seventies Tony Blackburn style of delivery.

He peered at me through his John Lennon style glasses and extended his hand "Lewis good to meet you man."

"And you." I replied.

Scott put his finger up to his lips to warn me that he was going to open his mike. I glanced over at the CD player the countdown showed that the track still had forty seconds to play. Many presenters fade the mike up early believing it gives a cleaner sound to the link. Which if you are prepared to sit quietly it does. I prefer to fade up at the last minute as I'm usually still faping about with the next track or item.

Scott went in to his link "Bennie King with stand By Me all the way back to nineteen Sixty One. And standing by me right here in the studio is none other than Lewis Gray [I shook my head indicating that I didn't want to speak] Perhaps we'll have a word from him later. Coming up that new one from REM which is sadly now going down the chart, and I've got two of the Four who were Fab for you. The times just coming up to half past Eleven and Cher obviously wishes it wasn't." He opened the fader and closed his mike, and spot on cue Cher sang "If I could turn back time."

"Man am I glad your here, my bags are In the car and at Four on the dot I'm hitting the road."

Scott carried on cueing up his next track as we spoke. He wore his headphones covering one ear only, so he could listen to the track he was cueing and speak to me at the same time. For my own part I hate being disturbed while I'm trying to do a show. In fact I have even been known to lock the studio door to keep people out. Scott was a presenter who didn't mind, I checked with him on the talk-back before I came in.

"I don't suppose you could stay on for a week?" I asked.

"Couldn't even if I wanted to. From tomorrow I'm on a Weeks tour of the North of England with Decade Seven."

"Decade Seven?"

He put his finger to his lips again, the track was running out. The monitor speakers cut out and the red light came on as he faded his mike up.

"That was Cher turning back time. And times the key to our competition this morning. Your chance to win a Gold Ladies or Gents watch from Tempus in the Avon centre. And here's your question which artist had a hit with song called "Out of Time" so have a think about that through the next track then we'll open the competition lines. Now as I promised here's one of the Four who were Fab. Yes from my favourite decade it's Paul McCartney and Wings with Band On The Run, all the way back to Nineteen Seventy Three. And like me their." He closed his mike and through the monitor speakers Wings were singing "Stuck inside these four walls"

I knew the track well enough to realise that he skipped the instrumental lead in and cued tight to the first vocal. It all adds interest and showed me that he was committed to doing a programme and not just simply sitting playing tracks. The more conventional way of doing it, is to time the lead in and have it playing away at a lower level under your voice. You watch the count down as your speaking, and if you time your ending words to perfection the result can be stunning. On the other hand make a balls up of it and crash the vocal and I will be in to visit anytime soon.

"Decade Seven" it's a Seventies Tribute band right?"

"Spot on. Slade, Queen, Abba if it's from the Seventies we do it.

"Even the Bay City Rollers!"

"No we don't play the Rollers stuff, mind you by all accounts neither did they."

At that point a light on the studio phone console flashed.

"It's the ex directory line" Scott said as he picked up the handset and pushed the line button on the Gesenter console.

Many different types of call come in to a Radio Station. As well as the normal business calls, there are dedications and requests, competition entry's, what's on items. You also get questions like what was that track played half an hour ago, or what time's the next train to Glasgow. All of these calls go through the switch board.

Sometimes it can be useful for station staff to be able to get straight through to the studio. This is particularly useful for on the spot news reports or panics like the Radio Car being late in setting up for an outside Broadcast [OB]. The number of this line is always Ex Directory and it is never ever given out.

So you can imagine my surprise when he said "It's a crank call for you."

I took the handset, "Lewis Gray?" asked a robotic voice, which could have been Male or Female.

"Yes."

"Staying Alive" By the Bee Gees started playing and then the line went dead.

Scott was keeping the show going as we spoke. At this time he was cueing up some adverts on a Mini disc player. "So what did you get?" he asked as I replaced the handset.

"Staying Alive."

"Take the hint. Get in your car head South and you just might"

" Just might what?"

"Stay alive. The pigs can say what they want but some ones got it in for the presenter of this show, this is my third time here in six months."

I explained that I knew a little of what had been happening. I also expressed my surprise that he wasn't doing the show permanently. "From what I've heard and seen you make a good fist of it." I told him.

"Hey thanks. I did get offered the show straight after Grant died.

"Why didn't you take it ?"

"Well I'm happy enough doing the odd fill in here and there, and of course Decade Seven keeps me pretty busy, but I was thinking about it. Even mentioned on air that I was thinking of hanging around for a bit longer this time. And then the shit hit the fan."

"What happened?"

"Car windows smashed, lots of calls like that one just now."

"What song did you get?"

"Tell Laura I love her, which would be bad enough on it's own but my Girl Fiends called Laura."

"Did you go to the Police?"

"Sure, straight after I told Elliot I wasn't staying."

"And they said don't be daft just some crank right."

"No funnily enough they didn't .They looked back at Grant's crash, they tried to talk to Calum, but he's just a space cadet."

"What about this number?"

"The calls were all coming from prepay cell phones on various networks. You know the kind you use straight from the box?"

"The kind you don't need to register so no traceable owner." I added.

"That's right and the calls were routed through various sites in the Central Belt"

"I suppose the studio numbers been changed?"

"This is the third number in as many months, but they still manage to find it. I still get calls on this phone and my mobile but fortunately they just play "Lucky Man" by the Verve.

"Are the police still investigating?"

"In theory Yes especially after what happened to Andy, but if you ask me there doesn't seem to be much activity. Oh by the way, the guy in charge DI Lenox is coming to see you on Monday morning before the show."

"Any idea what about?"

"I think he wants you to find an excuse to scrap the show for a few days. Technical problems, shortage of staff any excuse will do. Elliot's already got permission to take the network output but he's not happy."

I could see how he wouldn't be. Leaving aside the loss of advertising revenue. The maxim really is the show must go on. Putting the programmes out is the bedrock of a Radio station. Not doing so is a bit like a bank being open but having no money. For instance the tiny Ullapool station Lochbroom FM had most of their studio equipment taken out by a Lightning strike, yet were still back on air the next day.

Other less dramatic interruptions are not uncommon. A BBC colleague was presenting a late night discussion show, it's was an all talk no music format so the mikes were open all the time. Half way through the cleaner comes in with her hover, and proceeds to hover the studio. Shouting over the resultant din "It's okay for you lot sitting here talking half the night but some of us have got homes to go to."

I was directly involved in another memorable incident which has long since passed in to the annals of broadcasting history. We were doing an OB. from an agricultural show. I was wandering around with the backpack [A low power Radio link back to the Radio car] doing vox pops with the punters. Suddenly a young lady in a fur coat appeared. In seconds she had handcuffed herself to me. The phrase fur coat and no knickers was only partly correct in her case, as with her free hand she removed the coat and casually draped it over our handcuffed arms. Fur coat and not a stitch would be nearer the mark.

Never mind it was good for a Headline in the Gazette. What will they do without me?

Home FM presenter with babe in the Nude.

Home FM presenter Lewis Gray had a big surprise whilst presenting live from the Home agricultural show yesterday. The presenter fresh from his recent role in panto. Found himself handcuffed to a naked animal rights protester. Miss Fiona Flint 32. A freelance graphic designer from Boonfield.

With commendable regard for her modesty, Gray pulled Miss Flint around to face him, he had to almost embrace her as he managed to pull her discarded fur coat around them. He then proceeded to interview her. In the opinion of many who heard the programme the normally switched on presenter gave her far to much time to air her views. The interview ended somewhat abruptly after the signal was mysteriously lost after the following exchange.

Miss Flint "That's most uncomfortable would you mind moving your microphone please?"

"Gray that's not my microphone."

I caught up with The presenter at the instant T-shirt printers. Gray 39, claimed it had been a traumatic experience. He then collected the "Animals have rights to" T-shirt that he'd had made up. And was last seen heading towards the police tent.

MD Graham Charles said that a short regrettable break in transmission had occurred because a technical problem had arisen.

By now it was heading towards Twelve, my early start was beginning to catch up with me. So I said my goodbyes to Scott.

"Be lucky, oh and try to catch Mike Martin's show this afternoon"

I said I would and that I'd give him a call when he was back. He said that would be fine as long as I used a phone and not a Medium.

The Semiconductor arms was part of a small trading estate, just off the Dual Carriage way about a mile North of the Station. A large sign at the entrance Welcomed me to Johnson Meadows.

As well as the Semiconductor Arms there was a Multiplex Cinema, Supermarket, Burger joint and a bookies. All of these establishments were laid out in a horse shoe arrangement with shared parking in the middle. The Semiconductor Arms was at the at the top. I casually glanced at the other businesses as I drove through the car park to the top. The whole development looked top notch but there was not one National brand name in sight. The fact that all the establishments had similar names suggested that they all belonged to same owner, and as the names were: Johnson, Jacks, Jack Johnstones, JJ'S I think it's a pretty safe bet that the owner was called Jack Johnstone.

The Semiconductor Arms could easily have been described as a simple modern two storey travel Lodge type building. The sort of building you can find at any Motorways services. Yes it could easily have been described like that, had someone no gone and stuck a ruddy great Turret at each corner. To complete the effect there was a Moat right the way around complete with drawbridge. A white flag with the letters JJ in Red flew from the pole above the entrance.

A small brass plaque at the door informed those who hadn't guessed already that this was a Johnson group establishment.

The individuality of the outside, looking as it did like a set off Camelot the movie, was not reflected in the Rooms. At least not in my room, which could easily have been have been in any Hotel in any Country. In fact so nondescript was it that I will not trouble you with a description of it here.

My Portable radio alarm woke me just before Two. I was lying face down on the bed fully clothed. The pillow was wet with drool. How does that work? Doze off for a few hours and you wake up with drool all over the place, sleep for eight hours no drool. My head felt like it had been hand knitted by Animal from the Muppets.

While the News was on I groggily fumbled with the coffee facilities, which consisted of the standard tiny kettle which takes an hour to boil. A few sachets coffee which when put in the tiny cup provided will produce a cup of coffee strong enough to disinfect the insides of an Elephant. Then we have those little UHT cartons and, here you can generally have a choice, Congealed Milk or congealed Cream. I made a mental note to get some fresh stuff which could live in the Mini Bar. At almost Four Pound Fifty for a Whisky the milk would be the only thing coming out of there.

The new Scottish Parliament has a committee to consider petitions from the public. I'm going to start one to ban these stupid little cartons not to mention hot air hand dryers in Public toilets.

By the time Mike Martins came on I had produced a coffee which was just about drinkable, and I was beginning to feel a bit more with it. When I heard his first link I wished I wasent.

He opened with "The Great Beyond" by REM faded down in the chorus and went in to his introductory link.

Okay I know the Lyric "I'm pushing an elephant up the stairs" is a bit bizarre, but REM obviously thought it had artistic merit or they wouldn't have sung it. Talking over lyrics is my pet hate, I may have mentioned this earlier and you can be sure I will be mentioning it to Mr Mike I'm more important than the artist Martins some time soon.

"Hi I'm Mike Martins the number one on Calderwood FM, yeah that Toad, foggy Johnson's gone. Hopefully For good this time. I'm here with you till six, Playing in the background we have a lot of crap from REM, I've got to play it, cause it's on the play list. But not to worry [sound of ripping paper] that's today's play list in the bin. So instead were going to have some great sounds from my collection. Here's Technohead and "I want to be a hippy". This is for My mate Danny who's working in Bard road this afternoon.

Except what actually played was Oasis and "Live Forever."

He faded it down " Hey sorry about that, I put in CD one instead of Two but hey lets run with it anyway."

This was turning in to amateur hour he'd obviously not Pre faded the CD first. While the live music's going out, in this case for instance, REM the presenter can listen to the next track by pushing the Pre fade button [also know as cue on some desks] on the appropriate source on the mixing desk. You can also monitor and adjust the peak sound level on the PPM meters . In general terms for speech we would not want the meter to go above Six and the Music above four and a half. If these levels were not maintained the listener will have to keep adjusting the volume on their set.

So Martins obviously couldn't be bothered to pre fade. Had he done so, he'd have heard it was the wrong track. In addition he'd slaged off a fellow presenter, ditched the playlist, used his own CD and had talked over a lyric.

In the Lewis Gray school of Radio Presenting he'd just committed five deadly sins in one link. And first thing Monday Morning he'd be presenting himself at the Job centre. In the meantime I switched the set off and went back to sleep.

I sat on my mouse by the bar, that's right mouse. What else would you sit on in a bar themed as a computer. The bar itself was made up of large computer keyboards which were covered in glass. This was supported on top of mocked up computer tower cases. The Bar area was called the basic input area. In the basic output area the condom machine was optimistically named the Hard ware unit. Although if you made to many trips to the basic input area, software might be more appropriate.

Len turned down a quick one for the road. On the grounds that it was a tacky, tasteless, characterless shit hole frequented by arseholes. There's just no accounting for taste is there?

We set off in his Ford Escort which he'd obviously spent a fortune converting to a mobile ashtray with a nice mud job.

Here we are "home sweet home" he said as we pulled in to the car park of the "The Bard Of Avon"

The Bard as it is affectionately known locally, featured a traditional bar I had thought these to be extinct, but here we were propping the end of it. As bars go it was quite small. The floor area no more than Twenty feet long by Twelve wide. There were a few tables in the various corners of the room. Ashtrays must have been in short supply as the lino flooring doubled as a communal ashtray. The walls could have done with fresh lick of paint, but I doubt if any of the punters noticed. This was somewhere where serious drinking took place. The general hubbub of conversation and tall tales reverberated off the bar and floor and was damped by the cloud of Smoke which obscured the ceiling.

Len ordered a half and a half, the traditional drink of the Glasgow working Man. The half of Export and the single whisky a lethal combination for those not used to it. I had a pint of Tennants which was all that was on offer. Unlike the Semiconductor Arms, this was not the sort of establishment where designer larger was drunk straight from the bottle, so that everyone could see you'd bought a really expensive drink. Which was fine by me because in my humble opinion Tennants is one of the World greatest Lager's. It's brewed in Scotland as well. So by drinking it, I'm helping employment and the balance of payments. Therefore it's my patriotic duty to drink lots of it, can't let all those workers down can I.

We started with the usual Who, why, what, when, where and with whom conversation of new colleagues out for a first drink.

For Len well the who and the what pretty much spoke for themselves. The why was easy to. You only had to spend a little time with him to realise that he was fascinated by every day life and people who lived it. And he had a special talent for telling people where he'd been and what he'd seen.

The when and where was a career that had began in Korea and had covered Vietnam the Falklands, Northern Ireland and every hot spot in between.

Len had enjoyed his fair share of relationships but had never married. "I had plenty of wars to cover around the World son, I didn't need one at home".

Len met the woman who had the biggest effect on his life just under a Year ago. She was a senior BBC producer he met at a party. "You've got beautiful spanner eyes" he informed her after a half and half past full.

"Spanner Eyes?" she inquired.

"That's right every time you look at me you tighten my nuts."

And that in the new politically correct age at the BBC had been enough to see Len in to early retirement.

For my own part after the RAF which I shall not dwell on here. I made a complete career change after doing a HNC in media studies I managed to get a place with BBC Radio Scotland as a trainee in news. Eventually moving into presentation in the commercial sector.

Eventually the conversation turned to Calderwood FM.

"So what did Elliot tell you about the recent goings on at Caldewood?"

"Nothing much really, he did say things had been difficult of late. And I could see how they could be. I mean loosing a presenter in a crash like that, and it's well known in the group that the stations been having financial and programming difficulties."

"And he never mentioned any of the other little problems?" Len asked with incredulity.

"Certainly nothing about the other presenters, shot up radio cars, malicious phone calls. If that's what you mean."

"Someone's obviously been bringing you up to speed."

I told him what I knew so far from Carol Mackay and Scott Mackenzie.

"So are you still going to do the show on Monday?"

"Don't know, haven't had time to think about it properly yet."

"What's to think about, do the show and end up dead, walk away and live."

"Look right now I need a job and to be honest, I still find all this a bit hard to believe"

"Two presenters are dead, a third is a complete fruitcake, a temporary presenter gets his car done and is plagued with menacing phone calls. The station is pockmarked with bullet holes, the Radio Car has had all it's tyres shot out and you still find it a bit hard to believe?

"Okay I can see the station and car have been shot up. So what's that all about?"

"Drugs, there are two tribes around here the Red Cavaliers and the Blue Cavillers."

"Cavillers?"

"You saw them yourself this morning, gun platform of choice for your urban enforcer here-abouts, anyway for some reason the Red Cavillers have taken a dislike to the station there the ones taking the pot shots."

"With presenters like Mike Martins who can blame them, anyway he'll be gone by Monday"

"So your going to sack him are you?"

"Can't understand why it hasn't been done already"

"Oh it's been tried all right, trouble is the last two people who tried are dead."

"Grant and Andy right."

Len nodded "Same again?" he asked already beckoning the barman.

I finished my pint and passed it over in agreement.

"So you think there's a connection between Martins and what happened to Calum, Grant and Andy?"

"Well to up to a point yes except for Calum, he'd gone Radio Ga ga by the time Martins appeared."

"So who hired Martins?"

"Well you have to look at the whole picture. Six months ago Calum Smith has his breakdown, and is replaced with Grant Naylor. Within a fortnight just as he's starting to find his feet John Crawford"

"Who the fucks John Crawford?"

"If you'd just drink up and listen you might find out. Right, John Crawford was the then Drivetime presenter, anyway he suddenly developed an overwhelming urge to go backpacking round Australia. So now we need a new Drivetime presenter, and who should apply for the job but our very own Mike Martins, with me so far?"

"Okay but who was nuts enough to hire him I mean there must have been better candidates around."

"Oh there was, Scott Mackenzie for one."

"I don't get it. I mean what does Martins have that Scott doesn't?"

"Half a Million Quid in advertising"

"Say that again."

"It's a bit like Formula One. Some drivers pay for their seat with advertising sponsorship. Well our Mike's the Radio equivalent. He and his sponsor go to see Elliot, now Elliot's in deep shit there's major instability in programming. A lot of key local advertisers have pulled out. The ratings are going through the floor, and along comes Martins and his sponsor promising Half a million in guaranteed advertising for the drive-time show."

"Okay" I said "So he gets the job, which fair enough helps the short term cash flow, but the programme stinks which reflects badly on the rest of the station, losing audience and advertising elsewhere so where's the benefit in the long term?" I asked signalling the barman again.

"That's the point there is no long term. Word is that Elliot's has been given a year to try and balance the books then the group are going to sell it. Elliot gets Ten percent of what they get for it."

At the moment Radio franchises, even failing ones were going for serious money so it wasn't hard to see the groups thinking. They convert a hole in the ground they pour money in, to a pyramid of cash.

"So just who is Martins sponsor?"

"Your staying in his hotel. None other than Jack Johnstone local entrapaneaur and owner of a lot of Blue Cavillers."

"Johnstones a drug dealer?"

"Biggest hear abouts so they say. But no ones ever been able to touch him."

"Hence the Red Caviller gangs dislike for the station."

"Precisely."

"But what about the link to Martins?"

"That's the question. Okay so he's running a heap of straight businesses but half a million Quid is a bit over the top, and if you were a straight advertiser wouldn't' you want to advertise on a show with slightly more of an audience share than 2%?"

"So the bottom line is, mess with Martin's and the blue Caviller boys come round."

"That seems to be about the size of it and if they don't get you then the Red Guys can have a go. Anyway I think it's time the mikes went off [in the Airforce it would be the hanger doors are closed. basically a way of saying lets not talk shop anymore] are you for another?"

This was beginning to turn in to a bit of a session, which in the circumstances was fine by me.

"The Bard of Avon." Shakespeare Right?" I enquired.

"That's right makes a change from the usual Burns slept here, mind you as I understand it sleeping was not high on the great man's agenda."

"Wait a minute are you trying to tell me that Shakespeare stayed here?"

"Indeed I am. It happened like this. Our Will was on tour with a group of players doing some Gigs in Scotland, this was before he became more well know for his writing, you understand."

"Obviously."

"Straight up, anyway this was one of the places he stopped, not of course this fine emporium of the brewers art we sit in to day, but an earlier Inn on this site. Apparently there was some difficulty with a bar bill. So the troupe put on a play for the locals which was written at short notice by our Will. If the locals liked it they could carry on their way. If they didn't then they got thumped and stuck in the clanger. As the Inn was at that time called the Danish Prince that's exactly what he called the play. And with a change of title and a bit of rejiging here and there, the rest as they say is history."

"Piss off."

"That's exactly what they did off to Birnam which adjoins Dunkeld. Which is where he got the reference for Birnam wood moving to Dunsinane in the Scottish play [Len it turns out was a bit of a thespian]. All true I assure you.

"That's as bad as this area being the UFO capital of Britain" I said.

"Yeah what utter crap, who could believe something like that?"

"Well I could. You see the first survey ship from Andpama discovered Earth shortly after the war. 1947 it was and as history records or would have recorded had it not been restricted. The first landing was in a field near Falkirk. The automated ship took some samples, sent out some probes, listened to a few Radio Programmes and so on. Eventually it decided it had found a Planet that fulfilled it's pre programmed parameters , so it phoned home and buried a beacon to eventually guide the task force in."

"Of course it did. Look Lewis there's no need to bulshit, the Shakespeare thing is legit"

"I'm sure it is any way back to the beacon, the head of the Andpama task force arrived some time later and of course discovered the major cock-up. No one had thought to programme the survey ships on the desirability of placing beacons in remote areas. So here he was with two ruddy great ships and more to come, and his Nav beacon takes him on a flight path visible to half of Scotland. well he had a hairy fit didn't he."

"Well you would" said Len "wouldn't you , travelled the galaxy and your beacons in a built up area."

"Exactly, anyway eventually they chose a base In the North West Highlands under a Loch"

"As is the Andpamian way." said Len.

"You know of them as well then?"

"Len rolled his eyes roof ward."

"Just a good guess then. Anyway, what with the price of intergalactic travel and beacons and given the fact that he did have a lot to be getting on with building a base, visiting the Prime minister and so on. It was decided to use the one in this area for the time being. So they put an offset in the programme of their auto pilots. When it gets reacquisition of the beacon at about 200,000 feet, it puts in a course change which immediately puts them over their West Highland base."

"And I suppose the beacons still here to this day."

"Spot on, they did mean to move it, but you know how it is "Och we'll get around to it one day."

"Okay then, if this course change happens at 200,000 feet why do we have so many sightings?"

"That's just the piss heads over riding the Nav computer and playing chicken with the ground."

"Piss heads flying, flying saucers?"

"Well if you had been intergalactic travelling bored out of your skull for two months you'd have a drink or two yourself wouldn't you? Anyway the ground proximity detector cuts in at 4000 ft and puts it back on Auto pilot. Except at Roswell of course, Dam thing wouldn't pull up. Crew ejected of course."

"And are being held by the Americans at area fifty one I suppose?"

"No as Andpamanians look exactly like us they just caught a bus out of town."

"Okay Mr Andpaman expert, If these guys are so advanced how come they visit here so often?"

"Transports, you see they totally screwed up their planet, global warming, everyone had to move underground. Any way the long and short of it is every citizen is allowed a two year stay on Earth.

"So where are all these guys then?"

"What do you think Milton Keynes is for?"

"Lewis however good you are in Radio, Start writing books you've got a safer and brighter future ahead of you take my word for it."

And then we proceeded to drink the equivalent of an intergalactic Andpamian traveller in the space of a few hours.

As to the providence of Lens Shakespearean story I really couldn't say. The Andpaman story on the other hand is entirely true.