I hate the sound God makes when he's boiling up the leavings from his neep lanterns at Halloween; it's a sort of high pitched multi-layered whoop-whoop not unlike the triumphant chorus of destroyers at the end of The Guns of Navaronne - see HERE, 3.59 - only louder. Why does he do it? He is God, he can do anything.

Not too keen on the sound of recycling and wind-farms, nor yet of the screaming sheep in the abbatoir. There are certain frequencies the South-East wind makes whilst keening through my next door neighbour's over-flow pipe which inspires in me a certain melancholy, whilst a North-East wind inspires a wistfulness and longing that I can't readily account for. The demolition of coal-fired power stations is a sound I dread; likewise the seventh note the Westminster Chimes and the neighbour's cat Wilson crunching on the rat heads which seem to be its staple diet.

That'll do for now.