Lessons for St. Valentine's Day

A/N: This little one-shot, in addition to being a peek into the friendship between Annie and Angelina, has the added role of setting up a 4-chapter mini-series called "Monsters Aren't Real" which I intend to post for you all on Christmas. Enjoy the show!

Lessons for St. Valentine's Day

Transcript

River & Wrackspurt

Episode #363

February 7, 2008

ANGELINA: Welcome once again to River and Wrackspurt.

ANNIE: And no, your beloved hosts are not the victims of a Polyjuice Potion mishap...

ANGELINA: But instead have been laid low by a brutal case of the sniffles.

ANNIE: Well, Andean Aluxob Flux is what the lovely and helpful folks over at St. Mungo's are calling it, actually. Oh, and by the way, we've been requested to pass on the following public service announcement. The folks over at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes would like to announce a recall on all Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder purchased during the last five days, asking that you please perform a standard vanishing charm on all packages bearing the lot number eight-three-nine. Do contact your local Wheezes for a full replacement or refund. Do NOT under any circumstances continue its use.

ANGELINA: And our thanks go out once again to our long-time sponsors of this program, Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Now, allow me to introduce ourselves: we happen to be the oft-referenced, long-suffering spouses of your beloved hosts, filling in for the poor dears on this last Saturday before the dreaded Valentine's Day holiday. And yes, I said dreaded.

ANNIE: I propose a boycott of the whole rotten thing, Mrs. River. All Valentine's Day does is set one up for failure and disappointment. When will everyone realize that no matter what, your lofty romantic hopes for the day will not be met? All such ridiculous expectations do is serve only to pressure and frustrate the one you supposedly love, anyway.

ANGELINA (chuckling): Have you always felt this way, or is it only in later life you've become such a crusty, cynical old bat?

ANNIE: Crusty since the day I was born, I'm afraid.

ANGELINA: Well, I must say I've come to agree with your point of view. Now, don't get us wrong, all you idealistic young romantics out there. We might be grumpy old married cows, but we truly believe romance with a capital R is alive and well and certainly something to aspire to. But why set a date for it, we ask? Why should we expect that everyone all over Christendom must experience a profound moment of love on the same day?

ANNIE: Very well put, Mrs. River. I applaud your argument. Where is it written that the wholesale slaughter of roses and consumption of tons of artery-clogging - albeit scrumptious - chocolates must be ritualistically performed in the middle of ruddy freezing February, when everyone is at their palest, sickest, and most depressed?

ANGELINA: Hear, hear!

ANNIE: However, that being said, we have decided to put our two knuts in on the whole matter, and today we feature songs that deal with the subjects of love and romance.

ANGELINA: But not the sappy rubbish you'll hear at Madam Puddifoot's, mind you.

ANNIE: Perish the thought! Not that Madam Puddifoot's isn't a perfectly lovely place for a cuppa and a canoodle any day of the year.

ANGELINA (laughing): Truer words never spoken, Mrs. Wrackspurt! And to take it one step further, all the songs today will also feature female artists and, therefore, a feminine point of view on the subject.

ANNIE: Not that our better halves particularly ignore the artistic efforts of women on the program, you understand.

ANGELINA: Far from it, and kudos to them.

ANNIE: We're just doing it... well, because no one's here to tell us any different, frankly.

ANGELINA: And I hope it goes without saying that any complaints or issues should be directed to us, rather than the regular hosts, bless them, who had absolutely no input on today's program. Much to their chagrin, most likely.

ANNIE: At the moment, they cannot summon the energy to do anything but listen passively, poor dears. Do feel better soon, boys.

ANGELINA: I echo those sentiments whole-heartedly, Mrs. Wrackspurt. So let's get on with it, then, shall we? We begin today with "Divine Hammer" by The Breeders.

ANNIE: Here's a curious fact - this American band is formed around twin sisters, Kim and Kelley Deal.

ANGELINA: That is an interesting coincidence!

ANNIE: One of whom is also a member of another band previously featured on this show, the Pixies. You'll also hear a reference to dowsing - "You're the rod, I'm water" - but despite the magical references, these ladies are as muggle as they come, I believe.

ANGELINA (giggling): What's the 'divine hammer' to which the Misses Deal refer?

ANNIE (giggling): A Norse god named Thor was, in ancient times, believed to throw his hammer during lightening storms. I'm pretty sure that's what this song is about. That, and a carpenter.

ANGELINA: How very literal of you. Nice save. You see, dear listeners, sometimes a girl's not looking for love, precisely....

"My word, I've never seen Lee laid so low," Angelina murmured once the song began to play.

"I know!" Annie lamented. "George has something horrid coming out of practically every orifice, poor fellow."

Angelina expressively wrinkled her nose. "It'll be a miracle if Roxy doesn't get it. St. Mungo's gave us a potion to help boost her immune system, supposedly. I just hope I sent her off to Katie's soon enough."

Annie nodded. "Molly's got our little ones. You know, muggles have these things called shots that help prevent diseases like this..."

"Shots? Like, you drink them?" Angelina asked, confused.

"Nah. Injected."

Angelina looked like she found the concept disturbing. The women were quiet for a few moments. Then Angelina sighed. "You're so lucky to have family nearby. I mean... well, you know what I mean."

Annie nodded, smiling sympathetically. While she no longer had any blood relatives to her name, George's extended family had adopted her fully into the clan. Her situation was certainly preferable to Angelina's: she and Lee had both lost their parents in one or the other of the wars. "I know," she assured her friend.

"I miss my mom so much," Angelina said softly. "You must miss your Gran a lot, too."

"I do," Annie agreed. I miss her every single day.

"What's going to happen to this next generation?" Angelina lamented. "Almost no one has the sort of extended families anymore like we all grew up with. And these days, both parents have got to work just to make ends meet - present company excluded," she added with a teasing smile.

Annie smiled back. While she chose to work outside the home at the school, it wasn't because they needed the money. She also spent every day surrounded by her own children, as well as everyone else's, so she reckoned she didn't really fit the typical definition of a working mother.

"They'll survive, same as we did. They're all wonderfully well-adjusted kids, Ange," she argued. "We're doing a good job."

The song finished, and Annie pressed the green button, just like George had taught her.

ANNIE: Here's another American band, this one fronted by sweet-voiced little Hayley Williams. She's singing about the pursuit of her fellow, who unfortunately gets his head turned by a rival.

ANGELINA: Sadly, some girls can be catty things.

ANNIE: The hurdles we sometimes have to deal with, I suppose.

ANGELINA: Sometimes one must get one's hands dirty in the chase, mustn't one?

ANNIE: Remember that patience and determination pay off, girls. Stay true to yourself, though, throughout.

ANGELINA: An inspirational tune, indeed.

ANNIE: Not to mention nicely strident guitar. Girls can rock.

ANGELINA: Agreed, agreed. Here's "Misery Business" by Paramore.

"Any particular reason you picked this one, Annie?" Angelina asked, feigning nonchalance.

Annie could tell her friend was fishing but wasn't sure what she might be in search of. "Nope," she replied honestly. "I just like it."

"It was very short-lived, as I recall," Angelina said cryptically after a hesitation of several moments. "Lasted a little longer than Fred and I, though," she added with a derisive snort. "She never meant a thing to him, really. That girl."

Annie was flummoxed. "What girl?"

"Don't you know? About Gillian?" Angelina asked, sounding surprised.

"Oh, right.... Gillian." Annie made a strange sound - a hybrid of a snort and a chuckle. "The kissing experiment."

Angelina breathed a sigh of relief. "So you do know!"

"Of course," Annie laughed.

Angelina smiled devilishly. "Did Fred rat him out?"

"That does sound like something Fred would do, but no," Annie explained. "George confessed all on his own, actually." Annie sighed then, recalling those difficult years. "Teenagers can be so stupid, so cruel. He felt really guilty about that for a while."

Angelina harrumphed. "Gillian was no peach, either. She was just trying to get back at McLaggen for dumping her right before the summer hols."

Annie looked at her friend in surprise. This was a part of the tale she hadn't heard before. "Does George know that?"

Angelina shrugged. "No idea. It was ages ago, though. What difference does it make?"

Annie hummed thoughtfully.

ANGELINA: And yet one more American band. Next, we have Mazzy Star.

ANNIE: Nearly a one-eighty degree turnabout from the previous song, this one featuring Hope Sandoval's ethereal voice partnered with a mellow melody. She's almost hypnotic, I think.

ANGELINA: This song is about falling for the wrong guy...

ANNIE: You know - the one your friends don't like.

ANGELINA: Here's a heads up - there's usually a good reason, if they're your real friends. But who among us hasn't hankered after a bad boy? And when has a warning about him ever done anything but make him look even cuter?

ANNIE: I suppose it's one of those lessons everyone's got to learn for themselves, like touching a hot pot with your bare hand. It hurts like hell, and you'll only do it once, if you're clever. This is "Give You My Lovin'."

"What about you? Was George your first?" Angelina asked.

"Kiss?" Annie asked, confirming the only interpretation of the question she was willing to answer.

Angelina rolled her eyes impatiently and nodded.

"Not technically," Annie replied.

"That's an intriguing answer," Angelina said, her tone demanding further clarification.

Annie giggled. "Not nearly so. My lips indeed met with someone else's, but it was hardly a kiss. There was no... romantic feeling behind it."

"So who was it?" Angelina demanded, looking as if she had a strong suspicion as to the identity of the kisser in question.

"Nobody you know," Annie retorted pointedly, understanding exactly to whom she was referring. For some reason, Angelina wouldn't drop her idea that something sometime must've happened between Annie and Fred. "Just some muggle bloke."

Annie's expression darkened as she pondered the deeply buried memory. That part of her past was not something she permitted herself to think about much, if at all. An echo of it flashed through her mind: she'd been sitting on a toilet in the girl's lavatory while snide, hurtful voices rang out from the other side of the door. What did he expect from a whore like that?

"What's wrong?" Angelina said with concern.

"Some unpleasant memories," Annie confessed to her friend.

"Want to talk about it?" Angelina asked.

"Not really," Annie said with a fixed smile. "The song is almost over, anyway...."

ANGELINA: Now we take a trip to the middle of the North Atlantic - an Icelandic group, this.

ANNIE: The vocalist - her name is Bjork Gudmundsdottir - has this lovely child-like voice: rough, raw and emotional.

ANGELINA: I often find her lyrics simplistic yet deep. Perhaps because English is a second language for her?

ANNIE: Possibly. She's a bit of a kook, this one: turned into one of those eccentric artists, now she's gone solo.

ANGELINA: This the one with the odd fashion sense?

ANNIE: The one who showed up at an awards gala dressed like she was wearing a dead swan, yes. (giggling)

ANGELINA: Talk about the sense God gave a goose.

ANNIE: But you know what? That was ages ago, yet people still remember her for that. The stunt served its purpose.

ANGELINA: She's singing here about the infatuation period: how it feels when that lovely little arrow strikes and you get unexpectedly knocked on your arse. Oh, and she mentions she's been hit with his charm.... Is that another inadvertent magical reference by muggles?

ANNIE: Most likely, I expect. This is "Hit" by The Sugarcubes.

"I miss this, sometimes. That dizzy, crazy feeling," Angelina sighed. "Don't get me wrong... I'm not saying I'm unhappy with what I've got. It's great and comfortable and reliable. But... still... remember that sickening nausea? How your internal organs shifted position whenever you caught a glimpse of him?"

"We've been married for ten years now, and it still happens to me, sometimes," Annie said, smiling to herself. "I still can't believe it, some days."

"Good grief!" Angelina growled. "Rub it in, why don't you? Everybody already knows you have the perfect marriage," she added sarcastically.

Annie stuck out her tongue and laughed. "The summer we were sixteen.... Oh, God, I was miserable! I had such a massive crush on him, I could barely breathe. When we went on our usual camping trip that year..."

"I'm still just utterly gobsmacked Molly let this happen right under her nose!" Angelina interrupted, shaking her head judgmentally. "And you keep insisting nothing ever happened! Ballocks!"

Annie laughed. "I won't say the boys were gentlemen, because we both know what rot that is. But when it came to... proprieties... they were always very considerate."

Angelina shook her head, not buying a word of it. "That autumn at school, Fred kept promising us each a galleon - me and Katie and Alicia - if we could touch our elbows together behind our backs! At every bloody team practice! I nearly yanked that bludger bat away from him and beat him with it."

Annie giggled. "I didn't say they were mature about it. Innuendo abounded at all times, of course. But... I don't know. They always made me feel safe. Respected. It's probably part of why I was so miserable for so long, you know? George was so careful not to cross any lines - I was never sure if he could feel the same about me."

"Aw! That's just... precious," Angelina retorted sarcastically, pretending to have an awful taste in her mouth.

"Well, clearly I can't compete with you," Annie snapped with mock irritation. "Nobody wrote a bloody song about me, for instance."

"Song? What are you talking about?" Angelina demanded, suddenly keen.

"Ask your husband dearest when he recovers enough to speak," Annie giggled.

ANNIE: Closer to home now with an Irish band, and I cannot rave enough about these lovelies. Dolores O'Riordan has one of those beautiful, haunting voices that only Irish women seem to be able to summon. Her ballads are absolutely devastating, but she can really rock out, as well. I spent much of my youth with her songs in my ears, and they've stood the test of time, in my opinion.

ANGELINA: Ah, new love. Are we ever more vulnerable?

ANNIE: That's precisely what this song speaks to, Mrs. River. She prays that things will stay as wonderful as they are in that moment.

ANGELINA: Do prayers like that ever work, Mrs. Wrackspurt?

ANNIE: That depends on one's definition of wonderful, I think. It will never stay like it is in those first moments. But as long as one stays open, and refrains from paralyzing one's evolution, and can learn to see wonderful in what other people consider mundane, then yes, I think those prayers are realistic.

ANGELINA: How very profound. Words of wisdom, children. Do cherish them, won't you? Here is "Analyse" by The Cranberries for your enjoyment.

"For a long time, I was so confused about him," Angelina said softly. "He was really the first bloke who paid any attention to me as a girl, not a chaser."

"Fred, you mean?" Annie asked.

Angelina nodded. "My first dance... my first kiss. And then it was over before it began, really. I couldn't understand it."

"Poor Ange!" Annie crooned sincerely.

Angelina snorted and shook her head ruefully. "I was so pissed at him, but I didn't really understand why. I mean, we weren't in love, for heaven's sake. Before the ball, I'd never thought of him as anything other than a teammate, to be honest."

Angelina sighed with nostalgia. "Nothing more than wounded pride on my part, I suppose."

"I loved him to death, but Fred was for the most part a jerk when it came to women, Ange. Your pride wasn't the only casualty he left behind," Annie assured her friend.

Angelina nodded knowingly. "Lee's said something along those lines to me before, as well," she sighed. "I saw it myself, in fact. That little prick moved on to Katie right after me, and she got the same treatment. Oh, well. Doesn't matter, does it? Ancient history."

"Ancient history makes us who we are," Annie corrected gently. "You were perfectly reasonable to be pissed back then. And reasonable to move on. And reasonable to miss him still."

ANGELINA: Now, here's a song about realizing things are not quite as they should be.

ANNIE: We know the situation is heading for calamity, but do any of us ever jump clear of the ship before the collision with the iceberg? Hell, no.

ANGELINA: The Cardigans are a Swedish group, as I understand. The lead singer, Nina Persson, has another of those hypnotic voices: sweet and pop-y. And please explain what is meant by "erase and rewind."

ANNIE: Muggles used to make sound recordings on spools of magnetic tape. The tape could be erased with another magnet, wound back onto another spool, and recorded over again. Now, of course, they use lasers to burn and read plastic disks, but that's another discussion for another day.

ANGELINA: Here is "Erase/Rewind."

"Ginny gone into labor yet?" Angelina asked.

Annie shook her head. "Any day now." Then she sighed in exasperation. "She and Harry are fighting over names again."

"Oh, dear," Angelina commiserated.

"She swore last time he crossed the line with Al's middle name," Annie said.

Angelina's forehead wrinkled, trying to remember. "Remind me?"

"Severus, for chrissake!" Annie cried.

Little Al Potter's middle name was still a very sore spot with most, if not all Weasleys. Despite Harry's insistence that Snape was actually a good guy; that he had done exactly as Dumbledore had instructed all along and played the part of double agent perfectly; that he had redeemed himself at the very end - none of them could shake the feeling he'd been a traitorous, greasy git.

Angelina cringed. "Ugh."

"And now he wants to name this one - it's a girl, if you haven't heard - after Luna," Annie added.

Ginny had been fascinated by Annie's ultrasounds and finally convinced Harry to accompany her to a muggle obstetrician for one. Harry obsessively eschewed the muggle world, otherwise, and Annie reckoned it was a predictable consequence of his abusive upbringing. The upshot of the whole thing being that the sex of the baby was already known with scientific muggle confidence, rather than magical doodling with dangling wedding rings and such.

"You're kidding!" Angelina gasped.

"Yes, you can imagine Ginny's reaction to that one," Annie growled with disgust. "She told him she was fine with naming her after his mother, Lily. But Luna!?"

"What was he thinking?" Angelina marveled.

"Not to mention he singlehandedly named both the boys," Annie pointed out. She shook her head as she pondered the situation. James Sirius was understandable. Honoring Dumbledore with Albus wasn't unexpected. But... Luna!? "Does Harry really not see how threatened Ginny's always felt by all his previous girlfriends?"

Angelina raised one eyebrow, wondering if new scuttlebutt was about to be bestowed.

Annie smirked. "You know what I mean. Remember how she practically went after that pretty Asian girl at one of the memorials? Just for saying hello to Harry, apparently?"

"Men are stupid," Angelina grumbled. "And Ginny's... well... a mite unbalanced when it comes to jealousy. Think Harry gets off on it, a bit?"

Annie shrugged. "Who knows?"

ANNIE: Alanis Morrissette is a Canadian - quel surprise! - a nationality not often represented on this illustrious program. Her voice is so versatile, ranging from sweet and lullaby-like to furiously raw and angry.

ANGELINA: Ooh, and hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

ANNIE: The world is knee-deep in 'woe is me, I miss you so, please come back' songs written by the dumped. But here is one that takes a decidedly different outlook, to say the least.

ANGELINA: Open up your mokeskin purse, Mrs. Wrackspurt. A fine is forthcoming, I predict.

ANNIE (giggling): Did you bring your crystal ball with you today, Mrs. River? This is called "You Oughta Know." The uncensored version. You've been warned, dear listeners.

"When is Hermione going to start helping out at the school?" Angelina asked.

Annie smiled wryly. "I wouldn't hold your breath," she replied.

Angelina huffed. "I thought the excuse she gave when Rose started last year was that a big year-long project came up at the Ministry. Isn't it finished, yet?"

"If it is, I'm sure another, equally important one has arisen," Annie replied. "Face it, Ange - she's not going to sacrifice one day a week from saving the wizarding world from the menace of pure-blood prejudice. And good for her for sticking it to those bastards for all of us!"

"That's rubbish, Annie! The rest of us have adapted our schedules..."

"I know it's not exactly fair, but think about it," Annie urged. "Honestly, it might not be such a bad thing. Don't get me wrong - she loves all the kids, and she's great with Rose and Hugo..."

Angelina laughed. "I don't know if I'd go that far," she interrupted. "You should hear some of the stories Ron's told Lee."

Annie giggled. She'd heard a few of those stories, herself. As loving a mother as Hermione was, dealing with young children who had no concept of logic or consideration for others was perhaps the biggest challenge she'd ever faced.

"Anyway, I'm just saying - and I hate that I think this, but - she'd likely be more trouble than she'd be a help, to be perfectly blunt."

"You're probably right," Angelina conceded. "Still, it isn't fair to the rest of us. Maybe Ron should start spending a day a week at the school."

"Argh!" Annie exclaimed, horrified by the thought.

"He's great with the kids!" Angelina protested, laughing.

"Because he is one himself!" Annie countered. "And as much as I adore Ron, I doubt he's quite so liberated as that. Can you honestly imagine him spending a whole day at the school on a regular basis?"

Angelina laughed in agreement. "Okay, okay. But if that's the state of things, then they should pay for the service, just like every other parent in Britain."

"They're family, Ange," Annie moaned. "I'm not going to ask them to pay me."

"Then Fleur, Ginny, Hannah, Andromeda and I will do it for you," Angelina insisted. Her smile was mockingly sweet.

Annie huffed. "Fine. I'll talk to them."

"Soon," Angelina added.

ANGELINA: Back to America, and Ms. Sheryl Crow is not my typical fare, I confess. But her lyrics really speak to me here.

ANNIE: Same for me. She has this amazingly feline, almost purring voice. The melody is stark, serving to really direct one's focus onto the words. And as you said, the lyrics are heartfelt, mature.

ANGELINA: None of us survive adolescence and young womanhood without some battle scars on our hearts. Once reality hits, and you realize a mythically perfect Prince Charming who does and says everything right doesn't exist, it's time to reevaluate your outlook.

ANNIE: This song is about moving on, growing up, and perhaps acknowledging you yourself are not perfect, either.

ANGELINA: Hey, we're all complicated, full of contradictions. Deal. This is "Strong Enough" by Sheryl Crow.

"I can't believe Joey's three already!" Angelina cried, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Trust me, I know!" Annie agreed. "She's about half the size of James but insists on doing everything he and the older kids do. We're lucky she hasn't broken her neck three times over!"

"She's a caution, that's for certain," Angelina agreed with a smile.

"The healers at St. Mungo's will know her by name soon, I predict," Annie lamented. "I've given up forbidding her to do things - it only encourages her! Now I just tell her not to hurt herself.... Fat lot of good that does, either."

"Sounds like she takes after her father," Angelina teased. "Daredevil extraordinaire."

Annie smirked and nodded. "Bill calls her 'Molly's Revenge.'"

"Oh, that's perfect!" Angelina guffawed. After nearly a full minute, she finally gathered her laughter under control, dabbed her tears, and asked, "When are you rescheduling her birthday party?"

"The fifteenth, tentatively," Annie replied. "Hopefully this Flux will have run its course through by then."

ANGELINA: We're going way back with this one, Mrs. Wrackspurt. The Pretenders are a British band with an American front woman, Chrissie Hynde.

ANNIE: Now, Ms. Hynde is one of the original, groundbreaking women of rock and roll, Mrs. River. I regrettably cannot express how genuinely inspirational and clever and amazing she is. Many of her songs spoke to me during the recent troubled times that are thankfully behind us now.

ANGELINA: Sometimes we are not free to choose to be with those we love. This song is about lovers forced by outside influences to part ways. And please explain what a chain gang is for our listeners, Mrs. Wrackspurt.

ANNIE: Convicted muggle prisoners were once shackled to each other by chains around the ankles and forced to do manual labor. Oh, and P.S. - Delores Umbridge can kiss my motherf- (long bleep). If I ever get my hands on that bi- (longer bleep).

ANGELINA: Apologies for that, to all you listeners with tender ears.

ANNIE: Suffice it to say you'd better run if you ever see me coming, you effing bloated pink cow!

ANGELINA: Got it out of your system, yet, love?

ANNIE: I think so, yes. Thanks.

ANGELINA: Take a listen to "Back on the Chain Gang" from the Pretenders, an oldie but certainly a goodie.

"Sorry about that, Ange," Annie muttered. "Still a bit of a sore spot for me, I suppose. This song always reminds me of that year."

"You have every right to be furious," Angelina grumbled. "That woman is evil."

Annie suddenly realized they'd never spoken of the events of that fateful year. It had been so long ago, but she was still reminded of it every time her eyes alit on the faint scar on George's left hand. "You, too?" she asked softly.

Angelina nodded reluctantly. "Fred and George got it worse than everyone else. It got to the point where anything that happened got blamed on them, whether they did it or not. Granted, they were usually involved - they hated her so much. But even so, I don't think any of us who weren't members of the Inquisitorial Squad escaped the pen."

"Inquisitorial Squad?" Annie asked. She hadn't heard that term before.

"Mostly a gang of Slytherins all either out for revenge or on a power trip," Angelina explained, scowling. "They had carte blanche and took advantage of it, running anyone they ever harbored a grudge against into detention, whether the charges were proven or not."

"Let me guess... the little Malfoy shit was one," Annie spat.

"Clever old you," Angelina replied.

"I don't care if she never got a Mark - Umbridge was a bloody Death Eater in all but name!" Annie cried.

Angelina assented with a snort. "I hear she's on a campaign to get herself appointed to the Hogwarts Governing Board, now."

"Over my dead body!" Annie snarled. Fred and Art will never set another foot in that bloody castle, if she succeeds!

"The woman is barking mad," Angelina argued. "After the utter shambles she made of the school during her High Inquisitor days, she doesn't have a prayer. Nor does she have the funds to buy her way on..."

"Unless she finds a rich benefactor with a name even more sullied than hers," Annie countered angrily.

The two women looked at each other. "Malfoy," they said simultaneously.

ANGELINA: And now we hurtle seventeen years into the future to this lovely tune.

ANNIE: Lovely, yes. "Ladyfingers" is heavily electronic, with a thick, full sound that you should crank until you feel it in your spine, my dears.

ANGELINA: Luscious Jackson are four ladies singing in beautifully layered harmonies, so don't entirely neglect the treble as you skew to the bass.

ANNIE: Don't let the title fool you, either: this song is not about dessert.

ANGELINA: Just a reminder to all the blokes listening out there: don't overlook the shy, or prickly, or sensitive girls standing there on the edge of the crowd. Take it from me, they're worth your time and effort.

ANNIE: This song is dedicated to our poor, dear husbands home in bed, who followed exactly this advice. See you there soon, darling.

ANGELINA: With any luck, your beloved hosts will be back in the broadcast booth next week, just in time for Valentine's Day. Hope yours is everything you wish for, because if you've listened to a word we've said, you've accordingly adjusted your expectations to a more reasonable level. Best wishes, thanks for listening, and toodle-oo!