Photo by Lee Avison / Millennium Images, UK Every morning, I turn on the radio in the vain hope that I might be able to listen to it for more than a few minutes before my five-year-old son walks into the room. Usually, I manage less than a minute before the airwaves fill the room with stories of genocide, rape or murder and I’m forced to turn it off. The same thing happens on the car journey to school. The radio comes on and within seconds I’m lunging for the off button before some barely pubescent popstar can sing in...