In bygone years whenever I’d get my Montana on and get all boreish and obdurate I might submit whoever was hanging on for dear life in my kitchen to unsolicited declamations of my oeuvre. On the odd occasion the niagra falls cascading from my lips didn’t do for them completely they’d look all quizzical and go…

You know what mingo, it actually sounds pretty good when you read it out.

Nobody walking around with a book these days is getting ladies. The music is playing through your earholes. These days if you don’t have your own pod you might as well be a farmer. I figured if I was going to get a girlfriend I had to freshen up my medium.

As Keith says to a disgruntled Tim in the staffroom one morning.

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E N T E R

The cream of the DTBOI crop in stunning audio futurascape.

A critic has labelled it the winding sinuous flow of a soul on the brink. Twelve minute tales of beguiling wizardry from your local podcast provider on love and loss and going bald replete with sound effects and tunes and film excerpts spliced in and swirling round and peppering the gloaming. From now on I’m self-defining as a soundscape artist.

What could be cooler than that.

Here are tales of crashing and burning at the bar, the philosophy of swilling around in a puddle of your own filth, a majestic jaunt through the dawnearly light, coming to terms with your head as bowling ball, a shady happening on the top deck of a night bus, in-depth analysis of some ropey first dates, going rogue on a 100 mile walk through the Highlands, the seedy underbelly of YouTube addiction, a Legends of The Fall style epic about familial baloney and coming back to Pride Rock, and the hard earnt wisdom of a midlife crisis.

Get the net on your chosen podcast format.

Or peruse the below.

And counting.