Firstly, may I just apologise for such a girlishly frivolous post.
Secondly, who knew radio could be so hot?
My devotion to the BBC is singularly because of Radio 3 and Radio 4, but mostly Radio 4. When I'm at home, if I'm not listening to music, I've got Radio 4 on. I'm not always listening, sometimes it's just background noise, but it's still on. I've been experiencing a slightly worrying radio voice lust thing lately, which wasn't helped in the slightest by last night's Classic Serial of a dramatisation of Zola's Therese Raquin. I came into the programme half way through, but immediately recognised the voice. Andrew Buchan. Yummy, thought I, and that was all it took for me to spend the rest of the hour absolutely entranced. Buchan, better known as the scandalously delicious Scott Foster from BBC 4's not nearly long enough running TV Drama Party Animals, is from Bolton which means I shouldn't find him sexy voiced at all. But who knows why these things work the way they do. I saw him on stage last year in the Donmar's production of Miller's The Man Who Had All the Luck and he was pretty damn dreamy in that too. There's something delicious about a sexy voice and it's even more delectable when a sexy voice is reading sexy dialogue, and there's plenty of that to go around in Therese Raquin - it's about two lovers who can't be together because the woman is married to another man. Nevertheless our hero and heroine embark upon a torrid love affair, eventually plot and kill her husband in order to be together, drive each other so mad with guilt that they eventually plot to kill each other. What a story, eh?
Then, this morning, I switched on Radio 4 as I was getting ready to head out (I'm in the library procrastinating just now...) and the yummy sounding Will Self was on some show called The Unbelievable Truth which I've always avoided because David Mitchell's cartoonish ferret face is so off putting that I can't stand the thought of visualising it for an entire 30 minutes. I don't think I've ever actually read any of Self's books, but his voice is to die for. Lugubrious yet melodic, it's what molasses would sound like if it had a voice. Though I did experience a brief moment of disconcertion when I realised that that's who the scary chef Anton Ego in Ratatouille reminded me of: Will Self. Still, evil critic turned warm-hearted restaurateur or not, Self's got a sexy radio voice. Enough so, that I managed to turn off my repeated imaginings of David Mitchell's creepy bug eyes and just enjoy the golden-syrupy sounding musings of Mr Self for the remainder of the programme.