In An Mmmbop They're Gone

My Dear Fellow,

Occasionally, I will check around me before putting a song on my iPod. Checking guiltily over my shoulder in case a random person might realise I'm listening to Dollar or Leo Sayer. Today I listened to Hanson because it was a sunny afternoon and it's a summery song. Shut up.

I suppose we all have shameful music secrets. Do you remember when you stored some of your stuff in my Barnton house? This included your record collection and as you handed it over you apologised for "Dr. Hook's Greatest Hits".

I've never had musical taste myself. Reg does. He used to work in HMV and I asked him if he and his colleagues judged shoppers on their purchases. "Of COURSE we do man!" he said with a cheery head-bob. "You b*stards make our day!"

I KNEW IT.

On one occasion I heard what I thought was Eddi Reader in an HMV and went to the counter to ask what the CD was. "It's B*Witched," said the bloke sourly. I walked out of that shop with my head held high and then DIED inside after I got around the corner.

But I'm not alone. Lisa told me that one night she and her flatmates were drunk. She had bought a brand new Bose stereo with space for 6 cd's. They thought it would be hilarious to load it with their most heinous music and had a great time laughing at "Agadoo" and "Chanson d'Amour". 

The next day the brand new Bose wasn't working. It was like it had gone on strike in protest. Lisa took it back to John Lewis. The guy at the counter opened it and found that instead of putting 6 cd's in separate slots, Lisa had wedged all 6 into one slot. He pulled them out, one by one. 

"He threw them down on the counter like they were poos," explained Lisa. "Chris de Burgh... The Osmonds... Barry Manilow... The Nolans... Richard Clayderman... CLIFF RICHARD???"

I shouldn't laugh. I have all those on my iPod too. But only if there's no-one sitting behind me on the bus. Otherwise, I'm listening to The Clash.

Parsones