I USED TO have a boring job. Not a terrible job, just a boring one. Everyday, I had to get to Central Station by 12.30, walk up Chalmers Street to the Australia Post building and my desk at Media Monitors. I would clock on just before the 1 pm news and spend my time until the 6 pm television news listening to Sydney’s radio ratings leader, 2GB, a talkback station that pays the grotesque salaries of some of Sydney’s shrillest commentators. My job was to keep an ear on 2GB, sort and edit little summaries of what was said, relay SMS messages to government staffers and answer the occasional phone call. It wasn’t the most glamorous or stimulating job, but it paid the bills, allowed me to sleep in and spend the morning working on my music.

2GB’s job is talkback radio – irate listeners and irate announcers participate in the great Australian pastime of whingeing, in between snake oil remedies for prostate enlargement, lethargy and impotence. My job was easy and required only a small amount of concentration. The rest of my attention was usually spent trading snare drums on eBay or writing letters.