Step closer… just a little closer. You hear that sound? No, not outside—inside. Behind your eyes, beneath your skin, a hum you can’t quite place. That’s the threshold. Cross it, and you’re not in Kansas anymore. Not in Manchester either, not even in the year you thought it was. You’re entering a place where reality folds, bends, and sometimes tears. A place where nothing is real but everything is true. Time doesn’t quite tick here—it shivers. Identities slip. Stories play like records that never quite stop spinning, even when the needle lifts. You might meet yourself in here, or someone who looks like you but doesn’t like you. You might hear whispers from corners you can’t see. And here’s the catch—you’re no longer entirely in control. That’s the thrill, isn’t it? Once you’ve stepped through, you don’t get to choose what’s behind the curtain. We choose. The voices choose. The stories choose. And once they find you… once they fasten onto you… you might never get back. Welcome… to tonight’s transmission. Leave the lights on if you must, but it won’t help. Not here. Not now

Step carefully now, listener — for the air tonight is thin between what is and what could have been. You have arrived once more at the threshold of uncertainty — a place where imagination still hums softly beneath the static, and the walls of the world are thin enough to whisper through. Beyond this door lies a dimension untethered from clocks or coordinates… where the familiar rearranges itself, politely at first — then entirely without your consent. Here, stories do not simply unfold. They reconsider themselves. Reality blinks. Shadows hum. The past rehearses its mistakes — and the future, as ever, refuses to learn its lines. So take your seat, brave traveller of frequencies. Tune the dial not to reason — but to wonder. For you have found your way once again… to The Intrepid Birdman Show.

You have arrived once more at the threshold of uncertainty — a place where imagination still hums softly beneath the static, and the walls of the world are thin enough to whisper through. Beyond this door lies a dimension untethered from clocks or coordinates… where the familiar rearranges itself, politely at first — then entirely without your consent. Here, stories do not simply unfold. They reconsider themselves. Reality blinks. Shadows hum. The past rehearses its mistakes — and the future, as ever, refuses to learn its lines. So take your seat, brave traveller of frequencies. Tune the dial not to reason — but to wonder. For you have found your way once again… to The Intrepid Birdman Show.

You’ve stepped into the space between the tick and the tock — the moment where the second hand hesitates before deciding whether time should keep going at all. Here, in this place, the world is never quite finished. Shadows remember things the light prefers to forget. Forgotten prayers hum in the wiring. And behind every familiar face, something watches — patiently waiting for you to blink first. Perhaps you came looking for comfort, or clarity, or maybe just the kind of truth that doesn’t quite fit into polite conversation. You won’t find it here. What you will find are stories… fragile, feverish things, stitched together from the threads of dream and regret. They will follow you long after the radio falls silent. Because this isn’t the world as it should be — it’s the world as it almost was, as it might still become, if you stop looking the other way. So… take a breath. Adjust your expectations. And remember — in here, nothing is fiction, not entirely. Even though nothing here is real, it is, never the less true. You’ve tuned your mind to an alternative frequency…so come on in and take a seat, it's about to start. but Don't worry, it won't hurt... much.

you are on the threshold of a dream. in a place that exists beyond the boundaries of your familiar world. This is an invitation to join us, as we tread the chilling corridors of the unknown. What you have discovered, is a gateway to the uncanny. A place that can only exist in your imagination. Imagine then, if you will, a crack, in the very fabric of existence—a faint echo that pulses beneath the relentless noise of everyday life. It calls upon you to reconsider "your" world. the world you hold dear—the one comprised of laws, and comforting certainties now little more thane a facade, more delicate than you dare to believe. and hidden beneath it? a more chaotic reality exists. In this shadowy domain, the known twists into the unnerving, unveiling the hidden cracks in normality. As you embark on this journey through the labyrinth of your mind, you'll navigate the enigmatic spaces between realms, where clarity yields to a less settling uncertainty. Prepare yourself for an unsettling panorama, rich with disquieting imagery, where every perception stands to be challenged. Ghostly whispers beckon you further into the disarray. Here, your deepest fears and hidden desires intertwine, forming a complex tapestry, woven from the shadows of the psyche. Dare to cross the threshold, if you have the courage, but tread carefully. The world you’re leaving behind may conceal fewer terrors than the one that awaits you across this divide. allow me then to be your guide through a realm shrouded in mystery. the very space where you now find yourself. Allow my voice to guide you for a brief while as we traverse this eerie landscape together. Settle in, adjust your headphones; ignore the disturbances we’re merely syncing with the darkness before your journey unfolds, come on in and take a seat , it's about to start, and don't worry. it won't hurt. well, not much.()

A broadcast that doesn’t sit neatly in your evening schedule. It isn’t news. It isn’t music. It isn’t entertainment. What you’ve tuned into is something stranger. A crack in the wallpaper of reality. A faint hum under the chatter of daily life. A reminder that the world you cling to — the one with rules, clocks, and tidy explanations — may not be holding together as well as you believe. Here, the familiar buckles into the absurd. Laughter arrives with a shiver, and the ordinary reveals the fractures hidden beneath its surface. So go ahead, take a step across the threshold, if you dare. But tread carefully. Because the world you’re escaping from may not be as dangerous… as the one you’re escaping to. This is the other world. The one you’re not supposed to notice. The one you’ve just entered. A world with different rules and sometimes no rules at all.

You are invited… to step outside the ordinary. To leave behind the world of facts and daylight, and enter a place where imagination rules…where nothing is fixed, and reality bends to the shape of a dream. This is a journey into shadows and satire, wonder and strangeness. The familiar will turn unfamiliar. The safe will show its cracks. And behind every curtain… another world waits.

immerse yourself in the cluttered wardrobe of the birdmans mind as in this weeks show we examine the invention of "thinking" and why its not really such a good idea.

You are about to cross a threshold. Not into another place, but into a different angle of the place you already know. The world you trust, the faces you greet, the routines you cling to—all of it balanced on a fragile thread. Step one pace to the side, and everything changes. The familiar street becomes a labyrinth. The voice at your breakfast table becomes a stranger. The most ordinary object holds the weight of dread. This is the unseen world of the imagination. It does not ask permission. It creeps in when the lights flicker, when the silence stretches too long, when the questions form that no one dares to answer. You are invited to listen. But be warned— once the stories take root in your mind, they do not leave. They linger. They fester. They wait for you in the dark corners of your own thoughts. come on in and take a seat, its about to start. So lean closer now. The path is set, the night is open, and there is no turning back.

You are once again at the edge. In That place between rooms. Between moments. between worlds. Between waking and whatever it is we do the rest of the time. Behind you, reality, or a very convincing impression of it. Routine. Logic. Passwords that expire before you understand them. Ahead of you is the world we don’t talk about. The other place, the world of the imagination. The one that hums behind your thoughts like a creepy uncle that we don't like to let out when there are people around.

You’ve made a decision. Whether consciously or not, you’ve allowed us inside. You’ve surrendered the wheel— and now we drive. You won’t need your name. You won’t need the time. There are no updates here, no metrics, no screens. You may hear echoes of yourself— fragments of thoughts you forgot to finish. You may not agree with everything you find here. That’s fine. Agreement was never part of the arrangement. You are entering a place where the world still spins— but the compass has given up. Where truth is unchanged— but impossible to hold all at once. So lie back.Unfasten the part of you that always needs to understand. We’ll take it from here.

new season 4 episode 7 - 19:08:2025, 13.26 by The Intrepid Birdman

All of it is true, but none of it is real, dip once more into the cluttered wardrobe of the Intrepid Birdmans tormented mind.

Welcome back...to that flickering frequency stitched between waking and wondering. A broadcast from elsewhere, not another time exactly, but a version of this one, stretched and distorted by thought. You know the place. The air feels slightly too still. The voices slightly too knowing. Reality takes a breath, and in that pause... we slip through. Here, memory is unreliable. Nostalgia wears a digital face. And the ordinary comes apart at the seams, not loudly, not violently, just with the quiet confidence of a world that’s stopped pretending to make sense. We gather stories here ghosts of people who never were, mistakes dressed up as miracles, and technology that tells us we’re better now, even when we feel like less. You’ve made it. This is the broadcast that never fully introduces itself, hosted by echoes and stitched together with borrowed songs and haunted dialogue. The radio station on the wrong side of the mirror. So turn the volume up. Listen carefully. Something in the static might be trying to reach you. And if, at any point, you feel the rules don’t apply here, you’re probably right. Don’t worry. It’s all right now.

Step into the half-light, where the familiar starts to shimmer and shift. This is the show that lives between the static and the signal—where supermarket aisles echo with dread, apps know your secrets, and toast might just be sacred. Here, the absurd is normal, the normal is suspicious, and everything is probably fine. Each tale is stitched from modern life, gently twisted until it frays. Music drifts like strange perfume from rooms you can’t see. Stories blur with shadows and side-eyes. And always—just when it all gets too strange—someone whispers: “It’s all right now.”

You’ve found us again—though you don’t quite remember how. For the next hour, we will guide your thoughts, shape your silence, and blur the edges of what you call the real. You are now tuned into a signal not bound by clocks or calendars, but by the rhythm of forgotten frequencies and unspoken truths. You’ve crossed over. This is the place between stations— where the rules of your world stutter, and a stranger logic hums just beneath the static. We won’t ask you to believe anything. Belief is optional here. But attention—attention is mandatory. What you are about to experience is not a broadcast, but a breach. A gentle perforation in the veil between what is and what might be. Close your eyes. Open your mind. Let the transmission guide you. You have entered an alternate reality— where the facts are uncertain, the voices are not entirely human, and the silence is never really empty. Welcome.

You didn’t choose this place. Not consciously. But some part of you—a quieter part—asked to be taken. And we answered. This is not entertainment. Not comfort. Not even narrative. It’s a controlled detour from the system of things you usually mistake for reality. You’ve been following patterns. Waking, scrolling, consuming, reacting— until thought became noise, and noise became home. But now, for reasons you don’t need to understand, you’ve stopped. You’ve paused. And that silence? That’s where we begin. You are no longer in charge of the journey. There is no destination. No map. No way back until we say so. What you’re about to hear may not be real. But everything in it is true. So sit still. Turn off the lights behind your eyes. And if something stirs in the dark corners of your thinking— don’t speak. Just listen. We’re already inside. Let us take it from here.

return to the house of puck new - 23:06:2025, 00.10 by The Intrepid Birdman

The Birth of the Jehovah hatstand

welcome to the alternative world of the Intrepid Birdman, In this weeks show - Designer Pets, and other tales of a haunting kind. Go on, you know you want to.