Chris’s new face covering had the wrong energy
Chris had bought a new type of face covering which sat around his neck and could be pulled up over his mouth and nose.
People were calling it a snood.
The practical idea seemed fine.
The design was the problem.
Chris had ordered a popular multipack without paying enough attention and discovered the coverings were decorated with skulls.
Pulled over his face, the material did not make him look like a friendly Radio 1 presenter being responsible during a pandemic.
It made him look as though he was about to rob somewhere.
Scott said he would cross the street if he saw Chris approaching like that.
Chris tried compensating by walking more gently and keeping his hands visible.
Without the ability to smile through the fabric, there was very little he could do.
COVID small talk had become exhausting
Scott had also seen an email sign-off wishing everybody well and telling them to “stay positive and test negative”.
That led to a wider complaint.
Every email now seemed to begin with some form of coronavirus small talk.
Hope you’re safe.
Hope you’re well in these strange times.
Hope you’re coping.
Scott and Chris knew people meant well.
They were simply tired of every conversation needing to formally acknowledge something everybody was already living through.
Granny Tinder officially opened for business
After the previous day’s clips, Zofia returned with her nan Lynette.
This time Lynette was not simply reacting to messages after the event.
She would judge actual Tinder profiles and bios live on Radio 1.
Scott asked what she wanted for her granddaughter.
The requirements were traditional and reasonable.
Honest.
Kind.
Gentle.
A good sense of humour.
Then the profiles began.
Lynette treated dating bios like an inspection
Scott and Chris read out information from potential matches.
Lynette assessed whether each sounded suitable.
The presenters tried to invent a name for the service.
“Pensioner Tinder” was too basic.
“Grinder” was suggested as a combination of gran and Tinder before everybody immediately noticed it sounded far too much like Grindr.
Whatever the name, the concept worked.
Zofia had effectively outsourced swiping to somebody who cared about her but had no interest in being impressed by a weak bio.
Blow Your Own Trumpet returned
Listeners again called with achievements that sounded tiny until somebody actually had to do them.
The Tuesday feature remained a deliberate antidote to the idea that only major life events deserve celebration.
Getting something fixed.
Completing a task which had been delayed.
Doing something independently for the first time.
Scott and Chris would supply the trumpet.
Nobody needed a better reason.
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