Okay so when we were last within the pages of my torturously inadequate diarising, we learnt that newly 20 year old me had just discovered the magical allure of non alcohol tasting punch at a party. That introduction resulted in me unleashing technicolour rainbows of vommy all about the party, insulting people and eventually getting rescued by a girl called Natalie. It was a LOT to process, so for this weeks worth of diary entries, we're about to find out all the ramifications surrounding those handfuls of tequila soaked tinned fruit that I fisted into my eating hole. To help me work through the fallout, I'm welcoming the return of my bestie and mock wife, Yvonne or Yvie. Together we'll find out that all my tropical punch hoovering has huge consequences, like missing an actual on air shift, and witnessing my boss blow his top at me. Then for whatever reason my totally delusional self figures that I can fix all of the things I've screwed up, just by slipping on a pair of snazzy new Jag pants, yeah because...why exactly and how is that the solution? It does get me compliments and I certainly don't forget to record that detail in my diary for the benefit of future readers. Cyndy also finishes up at the radio station and a Demi Moore movie affects me way more than I thought it could, even though I have zero memory of it now. Plus Yvie and I revisit that time in the 90's when I was so self absorbed that she was deemed worthy of the task of delivering a "sort your shit out" intervention to me. It was ugly and I totes deserved it, thank goodness Yvie was their to shake some sense into me, kind of like a nurturing but firm Alsatian might shake a rag doll it had nestled between it's huge and rather diggy in teeth, I was shook, and she was happy to be shaking...bless. 

<div>Okay so when we were last within the pages of my torturously inadequate diarising, we learnt that newly 20 year old me had just discovered the magical allure of non alcohol tasting punch at a party. That introduction resulted in me unleashing technicolour rainbows of vommy all about the party, insulting people and eventually getting rescued by a girl called Natalie. It was a LOT to process, so for this weeks worth of diary entries, we're about to find out all the ramifications surrounding those handfuls of tequila soaked tinned fruit that I fisted into my eating hole. To help me work through the fallout, I'm welcoming the return of my bestie and mock wife, Yvonne or Yvie. Together we'll find out that all my tropical punch hoovering has huge consequences, like missing an actual on air shift, and witnessing my boss blow his top at me. Then for whatever reason my totally delusional self figures that I can fix all of the things I've screwed up, just by slipping on a pair of snazzy new Jag pants, yeah because...why exactly and how is that the solution? It does get me compliments and I certainly don't forget to record that detail in my diary for the benefit of future readers. Cyndy also finishes up at the radio station and a Demi Moore movie affects me way more than I thought it could, even though I have zero memory of it now. Plus Yvie and I revisit that time in the 90's when I was so self absorbed that she was deemed worthy of the task of delivering a "sort your shit out" intervention to me. It was ugly and I totes deserved it, thank goodness Yvie was their to shake some sense into me, kind of like a nurturing but firm Alsatian might shake a rag doll it had nestled between it's huge and rather diggy in teeth, I was shook, and she was happy to be shaking...bless. </div>

My name is Benjamin Wasley, you may remember me from my work as Giggling Ben on Hamish and Andy, or even Bad Boy Ben with the Vixen back in the 90's, but way before any of that, when I was 19, I moved from the seclusion of my bedroom at my parents house in Adelaide, all the way to the isolated Western Australian mining town of Karratha, to start work as a radio announcer for the very first time at a little radio station called 6KA. My Godmother gave me a diary to record every momentous occasion and now, 30+ years later, I'm going to find out how weird, arrogant, lame, self absorbed and closeted the teenage version of me was. To hold my hand while we revisit the end of the 80's and work our way through 365 days worth of embarrassing diary entries, I'll be joined by the people who've know me the longest, so we can have a giggle at the teenage version of me, and compare it with who I am now, and also revisit the world as it was at the end of the 80's, compared to how we're living right now.

Inside the Diary of a (Wannabe) Radio Announcer

19 in 89

Okay so when we were last within the pages of my torturously inadequate diarising, we learnt that newly 20 year old me had just...

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