James Brookes (and the sometime producer Jenny) move from breakfast to brunch and get a lie-in on a Saturday! Fascinating facts, a look at the morning papers and general chat mean the weekend is finally here.
As the saying goes, everyone gets theirs. University bigwigs, students, and campus in general have finally had enough of Jonny Long and Callum McCulloch.
In the ultimate act of media censorship, the powers that be have created an artificial island in the lake by central hall, and have duly marrooned our two entrepid protagonists upon it.
However, in an age of plummetting league table places, a disaffected student body, and general lack of extraordinarily funny people, the boys have been given a radio show to pass their time in exile, and also the option of recruiting one more person for their wiley band of vagabonds.
Therefore, they will be holding tryouts, live on air. There will be challenges, we will critique the songs you wish to bring with you, your luxury item better be on our list of things we need.
It's going to be sort of like The Apprentice, Only Connect, The X Factor, Raven, and a certain BBC Radio 4 radio show (that we can't remember the name of) all rolled into one.
The critics have called it a gamechanger, our mother's have called it a 2:2 waiting to happen.
All we know is that it's going to pop off in a big way.
It's dogs doing a student radio show.
The man who brought you Midweek Marauders, and half the men who brought you Plastic People, Elliott Ball has finally hit the digital age. No more vinyl*: Tune in weekly to a wide mix of music new and old; and an ever-changing array of features. Including "genre spotlights", discussion of music culture and guests: That's how it starts.
*Maybe the odd vinyl.
Tune in to a League of York's Own for indepth sporting analysis and fantastic tunes.
Showcasing the best independent and alternative music tracks from a range of genres as well as the odd interview from musicians on campus and beyond!
You could say it's post-watershed ;)
Exactly what it says on the tin.
Not that radio shows come in tins.
But this one does, and it's a three decade old salted pork tin full of what will probably be recent London migrant and soon-to-be-former PhD student Matt Windsor's last ever show on URY before he finally stops being a student. Expect pretty much everything that can be expected from a washed up student radio DJ that was once referred to as URY's answer to Alan Partridge: an hour of awkward gaps between songs, awkward songs between gaps, and attempts to draw a close on 8ish years of somehow repeatedly being scheduled for shows despite having the radio nous of a loofah. Does anyone still use loofahs?
In September 2020, Connor and I first bonded over rugs. We finally take our relationship to the next level and present a show where rugs take centre stage. Join us for music and chat - and rugs!
It's time for me to finally leave. Three terms have now gone by with a lot of very poor quality shows under my belt. Let's end this farce: goodbye to all of me. Exeunt Keoni.
It's 9pm, I'm Jess Schofield.
The headlines tonight...
Shenanigans occur as two friends who know each other far too well attempt to present a coherent and tangent-free hour of radio, to little success. Join Miri Huntley and I for loveable banter, wildly different tastes in music and a plethera of Goblin noises as we try and make sense of this wild and confusing world.
And Finally... In a stunning turn of events, the Uni of York's very own Long Boi has been Knighted.
And now for the news where you are!
Well. The time has come. Alex Towells is about to leave the University of York, and thus URY, and as such this is his final show.
Oh, and did I mention? He's going to do it for 14 entire hours. Because of course he is.
Tune in to enjoy(?) many an hour of Towells and friends giving literally everything they've got left to this silly little student radio station.
You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there. Lokir: Darn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been half way to Hammerfell. You there. You and me -- we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants. Ralof: We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief. Imperial Soldier: Shut up back there! [Lokir looks at the gagged man.] Lokir: And what's wrong with him? Ralof: Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King. Lokir: Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they captured you... Oh gods, where are they taking us? Ralof: I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits. Lokir: No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening. Ralof: Hey, what village are you from, horse thief? Lokir: Why do you care? Ralof: A Nord's last thoughts should be of home. Lokir: Rorikstead. I'm...I'm from Rorikstead. [They approach the village of Helgen. A soldier calls out to the lead wagon.] Imperial Soldier: General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting! General Tullius: Good. Let's get this over with. Lokir: Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me. Ralof: Look at him, General Tullius the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this. This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in. Funny...when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe. [A man and son watch the prisoners pull into town.] Haming: Who are they, daddy? Where are they going? Torolf: You need to go inside, little cub. Haming: Why? I want to watch the soldiers. Torolf: Inside the house. Now. [The wagon stops near the chopping block.] Imperial Soldier: Whoa. Lokir: Why are they stopping? Ralof: Why do you think? End of the line. also a banging breakfast show.