Bland FM

In this multi-media age of instant communication, satellite broadcasting and micro technology, it's small wonder my two daughters stare at me in disbelief - a trait they do with alarming frequency I might add - when I mutter rumblings about listening to the radio when I was a child. Growing up in Aberdeen in the early 1970s there was only BBC radio - none of the commercial mass media of today. And, it pains me to say, there was only BBC Radio One that played 'the hit parade' (the top 20 as it was then, dear reader) Being the BBC there were no commercials but the downside was you had to put up with the gibberish spouted by the likes of Tony Blackburn, Noel Edmonds and Dave Lee Travis. Yes, mine was a troubled childhood...

Nearly forty years on, I still listen to the radio and, at first glance, one would believe there is more choice than ever before. There's even radio on the television thanks to the Freeview digital broadcasting system. Many of the numerous radio stations now broadcasting are much of a muchness. I still listen to the BBC as my preferred choice - Radio Five Live is quite superb and my usual routine is listening to the excellent Nicky Campbell and Shelagh Fogarty on the Five Live Breakfast show. This week, however, I fancied a wee change and tuned into Forth Two, one of Edinburgh's 'local' radio stations. It was as if I had been transported back to the 1970s...

Now Forth Two is okay if you like music from decades gone by and indeed its strap line, as it never fails to inform you after every song, is Music from the 70s, 80s and beyond. But it's far too cosy for my liking. The DJs, most of whom have been there for years, never so much as utter anything controversial and you are constantly reminded of which station it is you're listening to - just in case you're too old to remember - what time of day it is, what the weather's like and what it's going to be like, what the traffic's like and, for all I know, the pollen count when wee Jeannie McGlumpher at number forty-two cuts her grass. Oh, and there's a queue at the Newington Post Office, so there may be a wee delay in getting your pension...

I suspect Forth Two is like many other radio stations in Scotland. Bland. I thought with the digital age there would be a good chance that such a change would at least begin to make Scottish radio more lively, interesting and diverse. More stations, after all, mean more voices. I thought there would be room for different styles of music, for different political perspectives, for stations to be less afraid to experiment.

There are some commercial radio stations in Scotland that cater for mainly the under 25s. And Real Radio does try to be different but seems to me to play commercials after every second record. And it has Robin Galloway...

Tomorrow morning I'll skip on being patronised by Bland FM and return to BBC Radio Five Live. And the traffic report for central London...

There'll Always Be An...

Euro 2008 began yesterday with two unspectacular games which saw victories for the Czech Republic over the co-hosts Switzerland and Portugal over Turkey. Three weeks of football beckons but I'm already getting weary of the comments of comentators and pundits of our cousins south of the border. Apparently, England didn't qualify...

BBC Radio Five Live, usually a station par excellence, bemoaned the fact England wasn't there (no mention of the fact that neither are Scotland, Wales or Northern Ireland) Saturday morning had Eammon Holmes interviewing former England manager Steve McClaren and included the probing 'Aren't you sick England aren't there?'

During the commentary on the opening game, Alan Green asked summariser Chris Waddle a key question midway through the second half as the game entered its crucial stage. 'How many of these players do you think would get into the England team?' It was quite rude of the Czechs, I thought, to deny Waddle the chance of an immediate answer the whole nation was waiting to hear with bated breath, by scoring the only goal of the game. Normally, Alan Green is the master of commentators but this was, to lapse into cliche mode, 'quite disappointing'

ITV's approach to the Championships appears nonchalent. The commercial channel have decided, even before the tournament began, not to cover the final which beggars the question why bother with the group games? But bother they did with the Portugal-Turkey game and, keeping with a theme that will last for the next three weeks, host Matt Smith asked why England couldn't play the same way as Portugal did. Possibly because England aren't as good I would imagine.

I'm sure someone somewhere is conducting an England reference count which may well hit double figures after todays games, both of which are being covered by the BBC. Particularly as this afternoon's offering involves Croatia - who knocked England out at the qualifying stage. How long into today's coverage until we see the film of Steve McClaren under his umbrella at a sodden Wembley?

Humility. A sense of proportion. Realism. Intelligent and insightful. The gift of balanced self-awareness. Quick to show due deference to others' greater achievements. Traits which, like the England football team, won't be with the English commentators at Euro 2008...

Royal Flush

At the weekend there were two stories dominating the news. The protest during the Olympic flame relay in London and, also in the 'smoke', the news that Prince Philip had been admitted to hospital with a chest infection. As a new week begins, the story dominating the news bulletins tonight is that the long running inquest into the deaths of Diana, Princess of Wales and her companian Dodi Al Fayed has returned a verdict of 'Unlawful Killing'. As opposed to what other kind of killing, I'm not entirely sure. But the huge cost involved for the inquest and the cost of keeping Phil the Greek in a hospital bed for a couple of nights will doubtless be passed on to us - the taxpayer. And at this point, I feel the need for another rant.

As a Scottish nationalist, I've often asked the question - what does the British royal family actually do for Scotland? In my view, not a great deal. Scotland, on the other hand, provides royal residency at Holyrood Palace, here in Edinburgh, Balmoral in north-east Scotland and at the Castle of Mey in Caithness. There are probably others but I can't be bothered to mention them although like thousands of other Scots, my taxes do help pay for their upkeep.

I heard on BBC Radio Five Live at the weekend that Prince Philip, despite being in his eighties, keeps rude health as does his octaganerian wife, Liz. The Queen Mother lived for over one hundred years and we're supposed to admire the longevity of a family whom, history decrees, shoud never have been in the position they are in any case (the abdication of King Edward VIII in 1936 saw to that) Republicans like me will see it as hardly surprising the Royals enjoy such good health - we taxpayers are paying for their healthcare.

When Scotland does achieve independence - and the day is not far off now - I sincerely hope that the next step is to make our nation a republic. The Royal family are an expensive millstone round our nation's neck. Many people in Scotland live in poverty and in poor health - the two are not unconnected - whilst millions of pounds is spent every year keeping the Windsor family in the luxury to which they're accustomed. Money that is taken from the hard working people of Scotland and the rest of the United Kingdom, money that we could all do with in the daily struggle to make ends meet.

I don't care if Prince Philip has a bit of a cough. I'm not bothered if Prince Harry returns to active duty with the army in Iraq. And I'm not particularly interested in the outcome of an inquest into the deaths of two people more than a decade ago. What I do care about is the people of Scotland. Particularly those living in poverty and those desperately trying to avoid it.

That's what should be making the news headlines in this country.

It's Tough Being a Man

One of the many blissful things about having a few days off work is that I don't need to get up at 6.15am to shave. I hate shaving. It's one of the many curses we men have to put up with in life - women don't know how lucky they are.

I stand in front of the mirror in the bathroom (that was a great song, by the way), bleary-eyed, trying to think about what the day will have in store. I have BBC Radio Five Live on in the background - Nicky Campbell is good for the soul first thing in the morning - but the conversation on the radio is drowned out by my electric razor as I attempt to shave off another day's growth. There's always a niggly wee bit that takes that wee bit more of an effort and the danger of this is that you hack a great chunk out of your face.

Then there's the shaving rash which can make your neck and chin look like an over ripe tomato - I tend not to use afterhave because a) of the stink, b) it stings like hell and c) it doesn't usually work for me.

So I'm sitting here on Monday evening with three days growth and, as my daughter Michaela isn't slow in telling me, I look like a tramp.

If I slap on the cheap aftershave I got as a Christmas gift in 1998, I'll smell like one too...