September 1, 2008
So there I am, studiously reading The Observer last night while my companion du jour watches a rerun of The X Factor, a programme regular readers will know I completely missed the previous evening due to my furrowed-browed observance of a fascinating documentary about the eco-agricultural uses of albino puffin blubber on an intellectual cable channel.
As Mr Dunn consumes the latest on the credit crunch, its political fallout both 1) domestically and 2) internationally (with particular reference to the forthcoming US presidential election), while also absorbing the latest cultural reviews, scouring the travel section for select destinations worthy of his time-served adventurer self, and allowing the most up-to-minute City takeover talk to soak, almost by osmosis, into his very being, a tune of sorts pipes up somewhere on the edge of his gargantuan intellectual plain.
"We built this city!" shrieks the singer. "We built this city on rock aaaaaaand...-"
"Roll!" he declares, but not on purpose: No, but because he evidently now suffers from some kind of shit TV talent show Tourette's.
"Roll!" he says again, suddenly glancing up fearfully over the top of the op-ed pages, uncrossing his slippered feet and almost spilling his walnuts in the process.
Sadly, however, it would appear he has not, in fact, joined into a virtual national sing-song with the gay and wild abandon of an ardent Sunday choirist.
No, instead he has just answered the "what's the next word in the lyric" quiz in The X Factor advert break, correctly choosing the answer 2), when answer 1) was "paper" and 3) was "euthanisia".
And has the companion du jour in question shut up about this honest and understandable mistake yet?
Let's make that a multiple choice answer:
1) Seville
2) Onomatapeia
3) No
