Thursday, 27th August 2009.

Positively 4th Street, if you turn left in 100 yards

In other news: Bob Dylan, of all people, is in talks to be the next voice of Sat Nav.

An article on the BBC website states that Dylan first publicly mentioned the prospect of discussing on his Theme Time Radio Hour. It’s apparently serious: rather than just one of these generic ‘ideas’ that form the basis of so-called stories during silly season, as in (for example) Russell T Davies’ joke about Amy Winehouse becoming the next Doctor Who, which of course got manipulated by the press and completely misunderstood by a moronic public, it would appear that Dylan is actually “talking to a couple of car companies”.

This has, of course, produced the usual flurry of comments about what he might say: “Look out kids!”, and also “Watch the parkin’ meters”, on the bottom of the NME’s report, were particularly amusing. The Guardian suggested that “the move would finally solve the existential doubts that Dylan himself identified in his song Like A Rolling Stone: ‘How does it feel. To be on your own. With no direction home.’ Answer: it feels fine, you just switch on the gadget.”

But if I’m honest, the prospect of Bob doing GPS voiceovers is one that fills me with dread, largely because he seems a frankly rather strange choice. Dylan’s so renowned for his mumbling and drawling that most of the time I have absolutely no idea what he’s saying. I do enjoy his Radio 2 slot, but sometimes wish it came with subtitles; anyone who recalls his performance in Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid will remember that it’s more or less unintelligible babble; Ralph C Nesbitt with a western drawl. The guy has written and recorded some fantastic songs that have enriched my life no end, but Laurence Olivier he is not.

If you’re really going to go down that road, if you will excuse the pun, why not get someone who is not only instantly recognisable (sorry, Dylan just isn’t) or who at least is able to speak clearly and coherently? Derek Jacobi, who is renowned for having perhaps the best diction of any actor alive today, would be an obvious example. So would Judi Dench, although it would be advisable if she didn’t swear, so that the BBFC didn’t receive complaints. Tom Baker would have been an inspired choice, although that bandwagon has to a certain extent been missed due to his usage on the BT spoken text message service. (When Baker was the voice of choice, I actually went through a period of sending text messages from my mobile to the landline, so I could hear Uncle Tom saying “I am the Doctor. Would you like a jelly baby?”)

But no. They had to ask Bob. Presumably on the grounds of having a huge body of work from which to choose. Back to the Guardian:

“Which way should we turn off from Highway 61, Bob? ‘Ol’ Howard just pointed his gun and said ‘that way down on Highway 61.’ So left or right then … damn, we’ve missed it. We’re on Highway 51 now, where does that take us, Bob? ‘From up Wisconsin way down to no man’s land’. Right, is that No Man’s Land near Guilford? How far should we go down this dirt road, Bob? ‘Gonna walk down that dirt road until my eyes begin to bleed.’ Crikey, that’s a long way, but we’ve got this Mitsubishi Shogun y’see, so if you could narrow it down to an exact number of miles then … oh nevermind.”

“Just imagine it,” said Emma, when I mentioned it to her. “You’d be all over the place, quite literally. You wouldn’t understand a word he said. He’d make you drive off a cliff.”
“Actually, I have the same inclination when I listen to Self Portrait.”

Most likely, we’ll go our way and he’ll tell us to go his. Oh, look, it’s Highway 61 Revisited. Because WE COULDN’T UNDERSTAND YOUR BLOODY DIRECTIONS!