SPEAKER_13 0:01

Hello and welcome to Wild Animals.

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A radio show with a collective view on ordinary every day.

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Objects and subjects.

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One theme per episode.

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With various reflections, opinions, and ideas.

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And of course, music.

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Wild angles.

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Today's theme is fridges.

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What's your favorite humming noise? Would it be the first one there now? That's the sound of a fridge. The second one, that's the sound of a man humming.

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Hi, my name's Anna, and I'm thinking about a fridge. Not really having an anecdote other than the time when I was about eight, dipping my finger in a jug of lovely custard only to find out that it was a raw egg. I haven't got one. So I thought perhaps I could look up something, you know, a subject that would not go in the fridges. I don't know if you can cross your mind back to 2019. When Boris was taking a last minute campaigning for the Conservative Party. And he dressed up with all manner of working class jobs such as he went to a training cards and crackers and then pulled them with the workers afterwards. Of course there was a famous bulldozer incident. So dressing up a bit like Bob the Builder, caught in his bulldozer, and made through a wall of polystyrene bricks with a slogan on them. And then there was a time when he dressed up as a baker. Well, not really, he just put an apron on over his shirt and a blue conservative pie. And then of course there was the dressing up as a fishmonger and in green spoon pretending to I don't know, sell fish or something. Typical blue collar job. Um and then he popped into a greasy spoon as you do on the M1, as he does often. As the group was cuttled into a large fridge. Now that's one way to get out of answering a difficult question. Or you could be like a living stone and dive into a disabled toilet to avoid a question. But it all ended well because the benevolent Etonian milkman went to the local council estate to deliver milk. On that note, enjoy the following song. Do turn off if you don't like colourful language, and you might as well call this Beastie Boris a little parody for you to enjoy.

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You got to fight for your right. I wake up late for work, man, I don't wanna go. Now it's a hard time for it to kind of dump. You got to fight for your right. No way.

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Well, just a quick fly ten times a day.

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You got to fight for your right. Well I still did unstep one. I step yourself three crests, turn point. You got to fight for your right to fotal rhubarb.

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British comedian Tony Hawkes revealed in an interview recently that he has a clear memory of being on a family holiday in Ireland as a young man and seeing somebody stood by the side of the road with a thumb out in a traditional style, pitching a lift. Nothing unusual about that, eh? Well, this guy was stood next to a fridge. Young Tony had no idea if he was delivering it somewhere, just connected it. What the hell was going on? Advertising as a UB forteeth cover band. This is a song called Fell by Date by Vegan Meat Raffles.

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Now Far the day you push it, put your head in the side. Far the day you push it, put your head in the side now, fall the day you push it. Fast flash, die shut, let the heart I've played in my shot. Fast flash, I know what's dying. This is a good, this is a fight, fast flash, die shell, let the heart, I've played the light shot, fast flash, and die. This is a good, this is a insufficient friends Me my friends and made the other ones To the big fakeers until the tape fakeers redify your common says Hypocrisies in order to agree We are a past day, shall we talk up late? Oh the stage is passive, the stage is massive, beside these plays, so many losses are we can't come and we carry on my hands, but it's not until you push it, put your head in the side now. Father, do you push it, put your head in the side? A father do you push it, put your head in the side, a father do you push it? A father do you push it, put your head in the side now? Father, do you push it, put your head in the side? A father do you push it, put your head in the side, a father do you push it? Fast back show, spag night shut, put the heart, spending the nice show, fast like show, fast, this is a gun, this is a good fight, fast drive show, spag night shut, put the heart, spelling the night shut, fast drive show, fast drive, this is like luck, this is big luck, my okay, okay, spicy spark, just people kill it from an orderly line style.

SPEAKER_05 12:58

How shall I feel the circle possession? I was on the perception I spotted.

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Now, I was actually one of the people who jokingly suggested fridges as a theme, but somehow a lot of people voted for fridge as a theme, and now it's backfired, and I have to find things to say about fridges, which as I'm sure you're all aware, on the surface they don't seem the most interesting things. Anyway, being a student, I've decided to tackle the theme of fridges from a student point of view. As a student, fridges are really scary places. You never know what's gonna have appeared in your communal student flat fridge overnight. What will you find in there when you open the door? Or has the fridge door been left open all night? It's always a mystery. What comes to mind first is my dear flatmate Joe. He was a lovely guy, very, very funny and entertaining from my point of view. And he lived off jam sandwiches and Pepsi Max when he was at university. And after about, you know, two weeks of doing this, he realized it probably wasn't very beneficial to his health. So he went to Asta and bought about ten broccolis, which he kept on his shelf in the fridge. So when you opened the fridge, you would see a shelf full of broccolies next to a Pepsi Max and a jam jar. And that was his way of compensating all the bad food he'd eaten. So he'd have, say, a week of jam sandwiches and then two days straight of broccoli, and he'd alternate that for the rest of the two months he was there before dropping out of the university. And then a different flat, mate, I didn't know how to cook pasta. And I was in the kitchen and the pasta and then caught fire because he didn't put water in it. So I showed him how to make pasta. Anyway, I left the kitchen, came back the next morning, opened the fridge, and in the fridge I saw a giant like pan full of the pasta he'd made, but he hadn't drained the water out, so it was still full of water and the pasta was just floating there. So he he left his leftover pasta in the fridge basically. Except that, as I said, I didn't drain the water, and he thought that rocket in pasta water was a really nice mix. So in the fridge there was his pasta floating in water with peas and rocket foggy rocket leaves, which looked absolutely disgusting. One time I came into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and saw packets and packets of ham, about ten, with a little label on it written high snacks. And then the next day I opened the fridge and I saw a plate of crumbled up shortbread and all the ham was gone. Bearing in mind there were about ten packets. The high snacks being, as previously mentioned, ten packets of ham. One of my friends at uni, her flatmate, studied botany at university. She was very invested and into it. And she loved growing plants, and she decided to try and grow this highly toxic plant but needed a colder environment. So she grew it in the fridge. And upon my flatmate asking her to remove the highly toxic plant from the fridge that wouldn't contaminate food, she strongly opposed it. And unfortunately, this had to be reverted to higher authority that the plant did get removed eventually. One time I went to the kitchen, I was first up, and the fridge door been left wide open with loads of raw chicken inside. Anyway, from strange leftovers to odd-looking food you can't even identify, to food that's even going for furry. Even that sour milk has been in the fridge for over two months and has grown this layer of strange yogurt. And obviously, remembering that most students do not clean out the fridge. And that after about three months, the shelves seem to acquire a thin layer of green. Anyhow, my choice of song this week is Comma Police by Radiohead for the simple reason that Tommy Hawk on one point sings. He buzzes like a fridge. And I get the lyrics build up after that. But there we go, enjoy.

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I've given up with what you get.

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Think I've ever had an actual soggy bottom, but I did have a number of crusty bottoms, and frankly I think they're worth. I'm not sure it's even worth the effort because controversially I prefer cake mixture to actual cake. Exactly visually cakes are visually superior. And yet, at Christmas parties or maybe the retirement due of an esteemed colleague, I'm able to deliver homemade chocolate tiffinslash adult rocky road, which never fail to enhance the celebration while bringing praise and respect in my direction. And here's my secret I bake them in the fridge. For about twenty savings, I take a four hundred gram packet of digestive, open it and break the biscuits into little bits in a large mixing bowl. Enjoy the sound of the biscuits breaking. In a saucepan four hundred grams of plain children, not expensive at all along with 170 grams of butter or margarine. Make sure the pan is on a low heat and keep stirring because it can easily stick and burn. And it's not great to burn a cake that basically make it in a fridge. Once the mixture is fully melted and liquidy, pour it over the broken biscuits and give it a mix. Next, add a splotch of brandy. A little splosh goes quite a long way, but I'll leave it to you to improvise how much. But the more that you add, the more cocoa powder you will need to add in order to maintain a thick texture to resist a little when you attempt to stir. And definitely no little bottles of liquid. This is the part of the process I enjoy most. Brandy, cocoa. Oh, that's a little too much cocoa, we need more brandy, etcetera. Here's the loop where the richness and intensity develop. Now let's add some sharp fruitiness, a couple of handfuls of dried cranberries or raisins if you scrimping. A grated pith of a juicy orange, and some half glassy cherries, maybe some chocolate hazelnuts. Rub some margarine into the base and an inch up the size of a square cake in. Then tip in the chocolate brandy, biscuit, fruity nut mixture and flatten it right down so it's about two centimetres deep. Leave it while it holds and bang it in the fridge for a couple of hours. If you want, you can use richity instead of digestive and amarato instead of brandy. In which case, how about almonds instead of hazelnuts? Improvisation is good. What is the mixture? Is it firm? Take it out of the tin and dust it with a little icing sugar and cut into quadrilaterals. If you decide to give this recipe a go, I wish you well with it. I'm reminded of the words of the TV chef Fanny Craddock's husband, Johnny. May all your donuts turn out like Fanny's. Let's chill out with a KLF.

SPEAKER_18 28:33

And pretty quickly the fridge became divided into territories. My friend and I both went to the gym, so we did our Tesco shop together. We bought pretty much the same food, so instead of having one shelf each, we just merged out two shelves. And the problem was all identified as a flat naked one. He was a lovely guy, but sometimes we genuinely felt like he wasn't house trained. We had plenty of space in the fridge, but he'd constantly dump things on our shelves instead of using his own. We asked him nicely a few times, but he kept happening and he kept doing it. Eventually we declared our policy, if anything got left on our shelves again, we'd consider it ours, and we'd just eat it. Sure enough, he ignored the warnings and left something he spent ages making on our shelf, and we ate it. He was furious. We reminded him that we'd warned him, and after that we thought he got a bit better. But the fridge wasn't the only theatre of this war. Of this cold war. We lived in a really nice little row house, and my shelf made my friend and I just wanted to keep it clean. Like most houses before land, it got messy. So we made a cleaning rotor and a few house rules for someone to get their jobs there with a flat beer or whatever punishment we invented that week. Now and the Flatmate 2, it wasn't really a problem in the fridge. He respected everyone's shelves. He was just a bit lazy with taking the bins out, for example. So from the outside, my friend and I probably looked a bit like Taskmasters. The funny thing was that Flatmate and Flatmate 1 and Flatmate 2 had the perfect opportunity to fall aligned again. Instead they completely fell apart. Flatmate 1 hated being the only one getting into trouble. So whenever Flatmate 2 broke one of the house rules, even something minor, he'd immediately wrap about every chance he got. So instead of a united front that was constantly in fighting. And then came the Pepsi crisis. Flatmate 2 loved his Pepsi and became convinced his Pepsi kept disappearing or kept luring. He accused Flatmate 1, who denied everything, and eventually got very suspicious, and he drew a line with a marker pen with the level of the Pepsi. And anyway, the line kept going down and so massive arguments ensued. And the funny part is that Flatmate 2 was right. We'd see him do it all the time. But my friend and I also next time as well, just because we wanted to cause chaos. So whenever I think of fridges, I think of espionage, territorial dispute and the Pepsi crisis of 86 who comes through in Exodus. Anyway, this is my songs como tu by Pepe Aguilar. And it's a song that we regularly played to serenade each other.

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Será mejor no me veas sufrir. Estoy stationado en los fracasos. Y hoy voy a remediar la situation. Por mujeres, como tú, hay hombres como yo, que se pueden perder en el alcohol por una decepción, por mujeres como tú, amor, hay hombres como yo que se pueden perder en el olivo por una versión.

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You're listening to Wild Angles.

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Hi, Kev the Poet here, and our topic of fridges has brought me an obvious opportunity to mention a little hobby that I have into the limelight. You see, as a poet, I love words. I love the clever use of words, and when it comes to giving people nicknames, this is a prime example of how you can use words brilliantly. Now, some nicknames are just cruel. Not a fan of those, but some are just downright brilliant. So let's get started with my link into this week's topic of fridges and step forward, William the Refrigerator Perry. Mr. Perry played American football in the late 80s and early 90s, primarily for the Chicago Bears. He was huge. Six foot two and a weight that fluctuated between twenty-four and thirty stones. He was a pretty immovable object, hence his nickname, The Fridge. So what other sporting nicknames can rival that one? Well, who could forget Eddie the Eagle Edwards? The UK's unforgettable ski jumper who flew like an eagle. Not for long, but he did fly. Also, Mark Frost, the Dark the Darts player. He's known as Frosty the Throw Man. That's sensational. And footballers always bring up a load of nicknames. As the former West Ham defender Christian Daly. His nickname is Parish Magazine. And fits all. Fitz is known throughout the football world as OneSize, as in OneSize Fits All. There's also my final one on this little subject now, which is Kiki Musampa. He was given the nickname Chris. The reason? Well, while he was on loan at Manchester City, Kika Musampa was nicknamed Chris after a gift you receive at the most festive time of the year. Chris Musampa. Okay. Alright, one more. One more football one, and then I'll promise I'll leave it there. In regards to footballer who signed from my club Aston Villa in 2013, his full name was Antonio Manuel Luna Rodriguez. His name is shortened to Antonio Luna for the team sheet. But as I brum is, we still thought that was far too exotic. So he was and will always now be known not as Antonio Luna, but as Tony Moon. Much better. Which brings me on to my finale. He's not a footballer this time, but one of the most famous nicknames in sports ever. Eric Mussambani was a swimmer who represented Equatorial Guinea at the Sydney Olympics in 2000. Eric only took up the sport six months prior to the games. But due to the fact that his country did not boast any representation in the pool, he obviously thought my fancy trip to Australia, I'll do that. He was allowed to compete only due to a programme which allowed athletes who had not met the qualified mark to take part so as to encourage participation. Eric's insistence on keeping his head above the water at all times and his less than refined action endeared him to the world uh into a worldwide audience as he eventually finished his 100 meter race that's just two lengths of the pool over 50 seconds behind the next slowest swimmer. And now will forever be known as Eric the Eel. He now serves as the head coach of the Equatorial Guinea National Swimming Squad and is a much in demand motivational speaker. Good on you, Eric. So thank you to every person who came up with each of these nicknames. There's some absolute belters out there. What's your favourite? My track for the week to support my contribution is on honour of William the Refrigerator Perry. I couldn't find a song called I Am a Fridge, so I went with the next best thing, I Am a Rock by Simon Garfunkel.

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A Winter's Day in a deep and dark December I am alone eating from my window to the streets below on a freshly fallen silent children.

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Hi, it's Maeve. In the early 90s I worked on a campsite in the south of France for a British holiday company called Harry Shaw. I'd basically got the job because I'd stolen Kev the Poet's identity and life, but I'm sure he's over that now. I was soon put in charge of the tents. So every single week three or four coachloads of people would turn up from the Midlands. Tired and exhausted, a whiter shader pale after 26 hours on the coach, they would get off but eager to find their accommodation. I would show them down to the tents. Now there was always a full range of emotions from sheer joy to absolute disbelief of where they're going to stay for a week. Husbands sometimes accusingly looking at their wives saying, Brenda, we're going to Menorca next year and I'm booking the bloody thing. But I can guarantee hand on heart that 99.9% of those people would have had a wonderful holiday come the end. Now I wouldn't say it was glamping, but it was a 90s version of it. But what made it so? Was it the metal spring beds with thin mattresses or the zip up flaps with mosquito net windows? Was it the plastic tables or chairs or the double gas hub? No, it was a light bulb and a fridge. Now I've got many fridge stories from back then, some of them funnier than others. Now occasionally on a Saturday morning when it was check out. Day, we'd go around the tents, and the vast majority of people would make the tent nice and t nice and tidy and clean as it was, as they found it. But occasionally you'd open a fridge and they were absolutely mingy. You say to the people, I'm really sorry, could you give the fridge a wipe out before you get your deposit back? And they'd say, Mave, these immortal words that none of us like to hear. It was like that when we turned up. Through a smile and gritted teeth, I would insist that it wasn't. And they would clean the fridge if they wanted the money back. Another sad story as well was the fact that there was literally no security in these tents. So people would hide their prized possessions, money, and passports in the freezer compartment. I don't know how many times we had to go to the gendarmerie and back then in broken French explained to a gendarme that their passport, money, and cornetos had been all stolen from the fridge freezer compartment. But there was also funny stories. Now we always warned people not to overload their fridges. And to combat that, occasionally, more out of fun, we would do a fridge inspection. I would grab Dylan and we'd walk down through the tents, choosing our victims carefully. We'd walk around sometimes shaking our heads with serious faces. People would look at us confused as sitting around the plastic tables and chairs of their tents. I'd say, I believe there has been a violation of the fridge uh regulation 637. They'd look at us confused, I'd say, overloading of the fridge. We'd walk in with confidence, open the fridge and see bolted full of beer, rose, ham, and butter. They'd say, Mave, what can we do? I'd say, There's only one thing we can do. I take out two beers, open them up, and sit there plastic table with them. Another successful fridge inspection. Anyway, wonderful memories from a wonderful, wonderful time. So I'm gonna leave you with a song from the last by the from the end of the week's show. I could have chosen one of many, many songs from back then, but I'm gonna choose uh Come on Eileen by Dexied Dexie's Midnight Runners. I'd be the one standing on the chair as the biggest show off, and my colleagues would be the sh would be either side of me. We would do a certain dance routine that would get faster and faster as the song went on, and it was absolutely wonderful. So enjoy the song, don't overload your fridges, and have a wonderful, wonderful day. All the best.

SPEAKER_17 49:55

We all live in a world obsessed with adding things. More features on your phone, more apps, more stuff. We assume that to make something work better, you have to add to it. But today I want to argue for the absolute genius of taking things away. Take your own brain, for example. When you were a toddler, your brain was a chaotic mass of new pathways. You didn't get smarter by growing more. You got smarter than systematically killing off the useless connection. You literally became an intelligent adult by editing and chaotic. When you see this pattern of the traction, you noticed it everywhere. When he looked at a raw heavy block of marble, he didn't think about what he could add to it. He was already inside. He just had to take away the excess and the beauty and the function of the masterpiece only exist because of what was discarded. And the reason I'm saying is because afraid you work in exactly the same way. Your refrigerator doesn't actually create hold. Trying to find some peace and quiet or just killing a beer. It's about what you have the gut to throw away. My song choice is from the cure. Their debut album, Three Imaginary Boys, features a fridge on the cover. Well, that's the only tenuous link to fridges I can muster. Sorry. Here is the title track.

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Welcome across the garden. See the lights out of no one's home. You know what's the statue scare at an open god of room? Can you help me? Close my eyes and hold so tight. Scared of what's on your breast. Waiting for tomorrow, whatever comes. Deep inside the energy feeling all the nighttime gives me imaginary voice. In my hobby, give my hallway. Can you help me? Close my eyes are hold so tight, scared of what the morning will. Wait till for tomorrow whoever comes. Deep inside the empty feeling all the night time meets me. Imagine every voice. Sing in my sea, sweet child.

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Music was by Johnny Rose. This has been a Go Beyond Production.