The studioline.

Text 89300 and the host reads it out, typos and all. About ten thousand of you do every year. These came in last month.

You played the song I buried my dad to. I had to pull over. Thank you. (Kay, 02:14) // My daughter thinks the Sunday reggae show is a person. (Tomas, 11:02) // First station in years that made me turn it UP in traffic. (Ife, 17:48) //
Whoever is on right now: marry me. (Anon, 01:30) // I only tuned in to complain about the jazz. It has been six hours. (Bren, 22:10) // You said my name on air and my nan screamed. (Jodie, 09:15) //
That was either the worst song ever made or my new favourite. (Sam, 23:41) // Heard it in the kebab shop and stayed for the whole set. (Marcus, 00:52) // Please never get a playlist. (Aoife, 14:20) //
The 3 am bloke who only plays B-sides deserves a statue. (Rhys, 03:12) // Put the kettle on, I am texting from your doorstep. (Lou, 16:33) // My dog howls at your jingle. We call it a duet. (Petra, 08:27) //

I moved away nine years ago. I still wake up to the breakfast show, eight hours late, and it still sounds like the neighbours talking.

Dele O. Listening from Vancouver since 2017

Your turn

Text 89300

Say what you are hearing. Ask for a song. Tell us we are wrong about the jazz.

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