Bad Good Friday

Despite my protests Ray insisted I manned the studio this evening. I raised the issue of a bank holiday and lack of public transport home but he couldn't see my point (it was more than likely obscured by a large cider bottle).

I considered giving the evening's broadcast an egg theme but try as I might no song became apparent. I had egg-sausted all options so in the end I plumped for the Birdy Song (egg related-ish) and threw on a Monsters of Rock compilation CD. I had hoped for a heated debate on the diminishing size of chocolate Easter eggs but Ray lay slumped in the corner of the studio babbling nonsense.
I should have asked him to leave when he came crashing down onto the mixing desk but he offered to pay my cab home on the proviso I help him find somewhere to stay for the night. He is conked out on my sofa as I type clutching a stale hot cross bun and his urine soaked trousers.