Radiostation Stories

The adventures of a group of friends who run a pirate-themed pirate radio station. [my comfort story / a selfish fantasy]

අහන්කාරයොන්ගෙ හැන්දෑවෙ සැරිසරන්න එන්න....

Out to surpass the ratings of a competitor radio station's talk show, an old friend asks Red for help. Deciding that a steamy nightly discussion on sex and love problems would give them the much needed edge, Red's help is then enlisted to play the part of an in-house adviser. Everything was going quite smoothly, until love turned into more than just a mere discussion.

When my wife took a job at the United Biscuits factory in Harlesden, she understood she would be making 'Digestives' ... and she was correct. When I took a job at The Radio Authority, I anticipated I would be regulating Britain's commercial radio industry ... but I was wrong! Although it was nowhere to be found in my job description, not even hidden in the fine print, my bosses regularly required me to 'turn a blind eye'. Perhaps this was the underlying modus operandi of government regulators: to sit in cossetted London offices, execute as little 'regulating' as possible and await comfortable retirement.

A girl commits suicide and writes a note to each of her past lovers, will this finally explain her death or just confuse everyone further?

"If this gets out, we're screwed," my boss told me. Actually, I have paraphrased because at least one expletive was guaranteed in this man's every sentence. He looked very worried. I was baffled. I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. "I don't just mean ME," he added in response to my bafflement that maybe he mistook for insouciance. "I mean YOU too, everyone in this building, this entire business. We are all f......" I will stop there. You can probably guess his favourite expletive.

"You will present a weekly two-hour rock music show on Saturday night," my manager informed me. No if's or but's. No offer over which to mull. No demo tape to produce. No question asked about previous experience. Without warning, I was appointed as presenter on one of Britain's largest commercial radio stations. I had just started a full-time backroom job at 'Metro Radio' but had never asked to present a show. This was my first paying job in radio and suddenly I was also to be put on-air. The start of my radio career seemed to be heading in a positive direction.

A mystery call and A woman's story how she drive on a secluded bridge ends mysteriously. What hidden enigma haunts this eerie tale?

Candy Stalker and Miss Medusa are 2 broadcasters on Radio Petrifying who have invited Frankie Stein and her friends to the radio station; on the occasion of Halloween; to narrate their fusion adventure which took place last year. Will Frankie and Ghoulia be able to separate their friends; or will they stay fused forever and ever? Read to find out...

a person is trapped in the radio station after the nuclear blast. this will not have a mc only perspective of different characters. based on fallout no story taken from it only the weapons, vault ???, and the creature in it.

The final few days before KISS FM's official launch were a blur of frenetic activity and outright panic. It was only at this late date that construction of the three studios was completed by the contractors. Now, at last, they were ready for the engineers from the Independent Broadcasting Authority [IBA] to test and inspect. Much to my relief, their report required only a few minor alterations to the air conditioning system, after which the IBA issued KISS FM with a certificate of technical competence. I affixed it to my office wall, alongside the poster of Betty Boo [I had pinned as my memento of DJ Tim Westwood's 'reason' for reneging last-minute on his scheduled daily daytime show].

In Radio Sterling City, there was a girl named DWKC who tries to follow her dreams for herself and to her friends. A new classmate, named DZRH, remembered her all of a sudden and became DWKC's secret love interest!

In January 1985, I had arrived in Israel to work as a DJ on a radio station, but this was no ordinary radio. The studios of 'The Voice of Peace' were on a ship anchored permanently in the Mediterranean Sea [see blog]. Aware of my interest in cutting edge music, the station's popular breakfast DJ Dave Asher (who had been living in Israel for some time) [see blog] played me a recent 12-inch single 'Galbi' by a young Israeli singer of Yemeni origin named Ofra Haza. It was a traditional Yemeni song, re-mixed and cut up into a state-of-the-art club tune that sounded to me like a new, exciting 'Middle East meets West' genre. I wanted to find out more, but the terrible winter storms and shortage of DJ staff meant that I was stuck working on the ship for the next three months.

August 1989. There was a momentary lull in the usually frenetic activity at the [former London pirate radio station] 'KISS FM' office, whilst we awaited the next Independent Broadcasting Authority [IBA] announcement that would give specific details of the application procedure for the two new London FM [commercial radio] licences on offer. [KISS FM co-founder] Gordon McNamee turned his attention to other matters, since he understood that there was still no guarantee of KISS FM winning the licence, even on its second attempt.

In a small southern town, a group of revolutionary minded youth gathers each night to broadcast their ideas on a secret radio station. They keep this station secret to all except those who listen in each night, but little do they know that a secret is being kept from them as well.

Pop music had been outlawed by the British government. Twiddle the dial of an AM transistor radio and you would not have found a single UK radio station playing the hits of the day. It was crazy. Contemporary popular music, along with the latest fashions and art, had become Britain's biggest cultural exports. The 'British Invasion' had taken America by storm a few years earlier. Liverpool's Beatles were the most popular pop group in the world. Yet none of this music could be heard on radio in Britain. It was so crazy.

"I am a paediatric doctor," said the young woman cleaning the toilet bowl in the bathroom of my apartment. "I work at the hospital during the day but I cannot live on my salary, so I have to work as a cleaner every evening." I was embarrassed. Although the doctor had been cleaning my apartment nightly, this was the first occasion I had attempted to strike up a conversation. I had mistakenly presumed that my 'cleaner' spoke no English. How wrong I was! Maybe she assumed I was a snobby American corporate manager who had just been posted overseas. How wrong she was! I was an unemployed Brit forced to take some freelance radio consulting work abroad, having failed to secure a job in my own backyard. Both of us were having to do what we did to survive.

"Leadership of the [UK broadcast] industry appears to remain in the hands of predominantly white, able-bodied men". Broadcast Training & Skills Regulator, Equal Opportunities Report 2008 In the United States, 'diversity' has been described as: * One of the "paramount goals of broadcast regulation in America"; * "One of the foundation principles in communications policy"; * "A broad principle to which appeal can be made on behalf of both neglected minorities and of consumer choice, or against monopoly and other restrictions".

He was dead. He was definitely dead, his face turned blue from the extreme cold. His body was lying face-up on the street, at the top of a staircase that led from the subway station below. I was amongst hundreds of commuters that morning who were forced to crowd to one side of the exit to avoid tripping over his corpse. Nobody gasped. Nobody said anything. Nobody stared. Nobody stopped. We all remained focused on our daily journeys to work, trying not to contemplate the precarity of our own lives.