I blame
pir for this.
I don't generally poke about on the TG webshite.
(The middle-aged person's TG, rather than the disco one. I'm the wrong shape for any of that malarkey. And too Peelist. After about twenty minutes of 'banging' and/or 'tunes', I'd be bothering the gramophone-wallah going 'Surely it's about time for some Melt Banana, 70 Gwen Party or perhaps a Fall session?')
Anyway. I tend to avoid the TG website because I find that looking at bits of $content served from whichever content delivery network edge server is electrically closest a lot like being at the seaside in the off-season. The donkeys have migrated south for the winter, there are angry clowns squatting the beach huts and all the good pubs are packed out with surly goths demanding keg lager.
However, in my not-poking through yon webshite, I discover
Mr. May sounding off like a motoring Peel and reminding me that I'm not the only one who shouts at other drivers from behind safely closed windows.
I'm not convinced about waving to Ant & Dec, mind. I think there are limits.