The Bugle, audio newspaper for a visual world.

Hello, Bugleers, and welcome to issue 4,219 of the Bugle audio newspaper for a world

that may well be visual, but is still a stone-cold fingering at most of the time.

I'm Andy Zoltzman coming to recordedly live from the Shed of Unquenchable Truth in South

London, and if you listen very carefully, you can probably smell with your ears the

putridity emanating from Downing Street, some six or seven miles north of here.

Can you hear it? There it was, it was unmistakable wasn't it? You're getting it,

I'm definitely getting it, it's like a cross between the stench, a wheeze, and a squelch.

Turn it up and play it backwards later, it's definitely there.

Joining me, someone who I've known since she could belch, but not speak, a balance that she

is largely rectified over subsequent years, it's the quibbling sibling, Helen Zoltzman.

Thank you, Andy. Thank you. Welcome back to the Bugle,

loving to have you on again. How was so, I was aware of Christmas, how how did an

andy-less Christmas work out for you? Well, we were quarantined with Covid, so we had

an everyone less Christmas, so you could have been there for a while, I knew.

I didn't go. Sounds like you had a very nice one without the rest of us.

It was sensational and unusually hot as Christmas's go, very monos and incorrect hemisphere.

Joining us, someone who by the most striking of contrasts, never occupied Alison Zoltzman's womb,

but nevertheless, everyone is welcome on the Bugle. You made it weird.

Oh, almost a year since it was lost on due to a business. It's Harry Kondo-Bolo. Welcome back,

Harry. How are you? I appreciate being back, Andy, and I want to

apologize for anything I did that forced you to put me into Bugle X-Ile.

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