I have a new worst of all time: Joseph Porter. I recently listened to Graham Greene's
The Quiet American and he totally ruined it; I only persevered because it's not available as an ebook.
Not only did his cadences and inflections make a nonsense of the narrative, his voice for the title character was ludicrously bad. The quiet American is named Pyle, and I honestly thought the British Mr. Porter was channeling Gomer Pyle; the problem was that this Pyle was from Boston. All of us Yanks sound like southern rubes, apparently, even Harvard-educated Bostonians.
It's not just me; I had borrowed the book from OverDrive and when I was done, I checked the reviews at Audible, which were uniformly bad. Even had I been able to overlook the golly-shucks voice of Pyle, Porter's interpretation of the narrator lost all the irony.