So We Will Get To See Michael Jackson's Concert After All

In what is one of the stranger bits of news I've heard this week, it seems that Michael Jackson's final dress rehearsal for his planned concerts in London, was recorded in high defintion video and multi-track sound. Accordingly there are plans to release it as a 'live album' at some point in the future. Apart from the obvious irony in that description, is it only me that feels this is a step too far ? Okay, fans will want to see a flavour of the show they missed, and perhaps Jackson himself would have liked the world see that even at the end he could still do it.

But what we will be watching is a performance behind closed doors, that occured just hours before his death of a heart attack. Won't that be just a touch strange ? I suppose I will watch it too when it comes out, out of curiosity if nothing else, but it does seem to be one exploitation too far and something which will be virtually impossible to enjoy given what happened so soon afterwards. But hey, what do I know, I only try to employ taste and discretion. I'm starting to feel as if I'm in a minority.

Turn Off All The Torrents...

...not of course that any of you know what that means, and even if you do you never use them. Neither do I of course, but 10's of millions of people across the world download music for free, but I think the party is now ending.

The biggest file sharing site in the world, Pirate Bay, is effectively dead. It has been sold to a games company and from August will become legitimate. It is certain that many others will follow, and that downloading for free is likely to become extinct. Many countries are changing the law to catch up with technology, and pirating is due to go the way of the dodo, in its current form at least.

But it has had a positiive impact in that the public in vast numbers have shown that they want their music, films and TV in a different way. They want to download it, for little or no money whenever they want. For ages the industry resisted this and tried to force people to do things the old-fashioned way, but the people didn't want to know. They knew what they wanted and they were determined to get it. Oddly enough many leading copyright holders have urged the industry to provide an alternative to illegal downloading and only now are we seeing the results.

I don't live in the U.K. and so have had to wait for an invite for Spotify, the legal music streaming service, but now that I have it I love it. And I must say that the temptation to download (which of course I never had) has been considerably reduced. What the industry never understood about downloaders is that they were nearly all legitimate customers too. But with the vast array of choice out there it simply isn't affordable for everyone to watch, listen to and play everything. In the main, what people like they are happy to pay for, but more unsual stuff, they like to try for free. Of course this can lead to groups, film makers and TV Shows developing legitimate followers that they would never have had otherwise. But the narrow and punitive view taken by the industry has until now ignored this broader picture.

People don't like downloading, and it's not about the illegality or defiance of the thing. What it's actually about is choice, convenience and price. And Spotify is a brilliant example of what the industry can do if it flexes its imagination more. With an interface like that of iTunes, you can listen to thousands of tracks in CD quality instantly, and for free. For most this will make downloading irrelevent. If TV and film versions become available, the torrent problem will be greatly reduced, overnight. Spotify makes money from premium subscriptions and subtle advertising, namely they have found a way to make the service free for all. It is the future, I advise you all to sign up and then you too can become legit. And no-one has to pay a $2m fine anymore.

How To Get Into A Fight At The Opera

I´ve written before about the spectacular opera house that we have here in Valencia. All year round it provides a programme of the finest works and the best performers. Added to that, my brother-in-law actually works there and so complimentary tickets are often available to me. But last night I witnessed something truly amazing. As part of the summer festival, an excerpt from Wagner´s ´Valkyrie´opera was staged outside, on top of and suspended in the air above the opera house. Sadly this is the best picture I could manage but it does give you some idea of the scale. But I´ll return to that presently, first the fight.

The event was outdoors, and free to the public. And when we arrived there was a crowd in the thousands waiting. Many had camped on the large road that was closed off especially, and of those most were seated. But I knew that most of the action would be in the air, and thus I along with a few hardy others remained standing. After a while there were a few shouts of ´sit down´and the occasional whistle. But I knew they´d all be standing up for the show, so stood my ground. But the shouting got worse, and more unpleasant. What made it more annoying is that they were wrong, and even though we tried to explain, they wouldn´t listen. But I´m a stubborn sod when I get going, and the more they jeered the more I stood stock still. I was accompanied by my mother-in-law who was similarly unmoved and who shot the pithy comment ´what did you pay for the tickets then´in their direction.

But I can get riled easily and didn´t let it go at that. When the jeers became more like a chorus I lost my temper, turned round and gave the finger to at least 100 people. As you may imagine this did nothing to defuse the situation, and the shouting got worse. I´ll confess it was a strange situation and I started to feel a little uncomfortable, was I prepared to take this to the next level and actually fight someone, and would that make me the opera´s first hooligan ? So, not wanting to spoil the evening with a brawl that I would certainly lose, I withdrew to a safe distance, but as I walked off they cheered and so I turned round and did the ´wanker´symbol to maybe 300 people. Am I proud ? You bet your arse I am.

But getting back to the show, it was a dramatic excerpt from one of Wagner´s most famous pieces. The booming music was pumped out of giant speakers, and acrobats were suspended by cranes (as hopefully you can see) as a light show filled the night sky. Some performers even appeared standing on the top and sides of what is a huge building, and with the aid of ropes were seen running along the wall Spiderman style. But the best part was saved for last, when the structure you can see, complete with 30 acrobats was hoisted to an incredible height by a giant crane. There was no safety net, and no mat beneath them, and this was the climax to a brilliant piece of theatre. I´ve never seen anything like it, the music, the lights and the sheer size of the performance were all superb. Wagner would have been chuffed, despite being by all accounts a miserable old sod.

Best bit of all though, was when I looked round and saw my tormentors all forced to stand up or be run over by a tractor. Game, set, match and copy of Touché Weekly to me I think.

Oops !

So there's me pontificating a few posts back about giving up drinking. And to be fair to myself, that's pretty much what I've done. There are moments, fairly rare, that I take a sip of something but I'm otherwise teetotal. And I really like it. My head feels clear and focussed and my stomach is the happier for it. But last night, I gave myself a reminder of precisely why I gave up.

We had some friends round, and those friends brought the equipment and ingredients for Mojito making. And they made them until 4 in the morning. Now I only had two, but they were fairly potent, and almost irresistable on a warm summer night. For those of you who don't know they are a cocktail made of rum, lime juice, sugar, crushed ice, and mint leaves. And they are absolutely lovely. You can't really taste the alcholol and they are so refreshing that they almost convince you that they are healthy. But they pack a punch like a cartoon anvil falling on your head.

So this morning I awoke to find my head thumping, my mouth dry and my stomach performing a circus act. 'Aha', I thought to myself in a moment of shaky clarity 'this is why I gave up drinking'. Having said that it was a nice evening and they went down well at the time. It was a mild hangover in the end and it's gone now. But I shan't be allowing any alcohol to pass my lips for a while, and my toe that was dipped back into the booze has been sufficiently bitten for me to reaffirm my decision. But I'd still recommend you all try one, you can get a ready made version from Bacardi and it's pretty decent. There's nothing quite like them for a balmy summer's night, just don't overdo it.

Free At Last

Wow, it really is amazing how much more blogging time I have, now that I have deleted both my Twitter and Facebook accounts. It seems I was turning to them, and dragging through dozens of rotten posts, looking for something interesting hour after hour. A bit like those moments when you are left alone in front of the TV after midnight, and find yourself flicking through the channels endlessly, desperate for something to do.

Twitter is addictive, no doubt about that, and I have seen some of the best blogs I go to become neglected and covered in cobwebs as their owners tweet their arses off. Mine suffered too, just look at the frequency of postings compared to last year. You see, it eeks your time away. Not only that but I do rather fancy doing some proper writing, and you can't get that done if you're obsessed with getting Stephen Fry to reply to you. Which of course he never does.

And is it just me, or has Michael Jackson's death knocked the planet off its axis slightly ? It's hard to believe he's dead isn't it, and I'm half expecting them to find a pile of clothes of a beach somewhere, Reggie Perrin style. By all accounts his life and finances were a right mess by the end, and it seems like many fading stars he was surrounded by people who didn't necessarily have his best interests at heart. Of course now we will have Michael Jackson stories for years to come. The man has gone, the legend has been born. Haven't seen a conspiracy theory yet though. Just wait, one will turn up.

The truth may be more mundane than that, as I've learnt from teaching English to and having serious discussions with two doctors, people do sometimes die of almost nothing and often most unexpectedly. We find it hard to believe when that person is so famous, and that surely they must have died for some important reason. Look at the Kennedy assassination. Like many people, especially after seeing the JFK film, I believed that there was a conspiracy. After all, how could someone like Kennedy be taken down by a loser like Oswald, working on his own ? But as Robert Dallek, JFK biographer, rather astutely pointed out, it is almost inconceivable that such a conspiracy could have held for so long and when so many of the people that would need to be involved are now dead. It could just be that Oswald got a lucky shot in, no matter how unlikely it seems.

But anyway, enough of that. We will have years to digest the news about Jacko and years to remember his music and work. I can't say I was greatly enamoured by the way he conducted himself in later years, but when he was good, he was very good.

And now I must go because I have a party to cook for tonight, and that means trying to get a pavlova to cool down in 35 degree heat. Any ideas (and don't say the fridge cos it's full) ?

54% Of People In Africa Don't Have Safe Drinking Water And We're Fixated With This Clown ?

I don't know about you but I'm bored titless with stories of celebrity excess. Perhaps it's unfair to focus on just one person here, but Cristiano Ronaldo, the latest cocky playboy to emerge from European football, is a hard man to like. He's just been transferred for £80m and the British papers are delighting in tales of him screwing Paris Hilton (now there's a match made in ego heaven).

But while we all tut, shake our heads and say 'it's too much money', we do seem to forget how ridiculous all this celebrity stuff has now become. These people live lives of such excess and selfishness that certain Roman emporers would no doubt look on in envy. Caligula was a bit of a boy but perhaps even he would blanch at some of the goings on backstage at a Motley Crue concert.

But what I want to stress here is that there is something deeply wrong with looking up to and obsessively following the every move of people that are vain, arrogant, and above all selfish. These people shouldn't be our role models. Perhaps if they weren't then there wouldn't be a general urge to emulate their lives. And maybe this obsession with wealth would go away. And maybe candyfloss and smiles would be given away free on street corners.

Oh and no way is Ronaldo worth the money. And just to prove it here are 5 better players than him. Lionel Messi, Kaka, David Villa, Fernando Torres, Steve Gerrard. Ask a football fan, they'll tell you I'm right.

Death To Twitter

I have just deleted my Twitter account, and I feel a better man for it. Earlier this year I put the sword to my Facebook account and that felt like executing a notorious criminal. With Twitter it feels more like a mercy killing. Why have I done this, why have I jumped out of the two biggest cultural pheneomena for at least, oh, 6 months? Well it's because I have reached the conclusion that both are a colossal waste of time and have no merit whatsoever.

But I want to focus on Twitter here, which I feel is long overdue for a real kicking. I have been a member for about 9 months and have become increasingly angry with it. At first it was different, novel and interesting. But then so was National Socialism. After a while I noticed a number of trends that started to make me dislike it, and that dislike has finally matured into all out loathing. Here are the reasons I left;

1. Celebrities. Many so-called famous people have adopted Twitter. What they do is ramble on about themselves, talk to other celebs and generally confirm the assertion that they are just like us, only more dull. Generally self-absorbed and surprisingly unfunny (particularly comedians), the celebs use Twitter to have their egos stroked, to stroke each others and to generally witter on about fuck all. Frankly, most of them would have been better off retaining an air of enigma.

2. Rubbish jokes. You know those godawful and usually tasteless jokes that people send round on their mobile phones and then show you as if they are the most amusing thing ever ? Well, they now have a new home, Twitter. For some reason people on Twitter feel that if they have a few followers then what they say is both interesting and funny. Thus there are streams of jokes that people follow and then submit unfunny jokes to ad nauseum. And they are hopeless, especially those from celebs. There is no way of turning off this stream of shite unless you unfollow friends and collegaues and thus piss them off.

3. Laziness. If Twitter represents anything, it's the culture of instant gratification. To call it micro-blogging is a misnomer. Twitter is for people too lazy to blog, and who want an instant reaction to their thoughts. Blogging takes some effort, planning and maybe even something approaching proper writing. Tweeting requires you to spew out the first thought that comes into your head, and by the looks of most of them, that's where they should have stayed. And for God's sake don't re-tweet or reply, it only encourages them.

4. Twi-ness. People who love Twitter, tend to make up words with the prefix of Twi. They apply this to virtually any situation they can think of which can be associated somehow with the site. Thus a whole new lexicon for stupid made up words is being invented, all of which do nothing more than delineate a clique. Tweet me later ? Fuck off.

5. Rampant egos. The big thing about Tweeters is their unhealthy and almost instant obsession with the number of followers they have, as if this figure is an accurate numerical measurement of their popularity. Some people's entire presence on the site is nothing more than a crusade for more followers, and they spend their time cajoling and bullying people into following them. And when it comes to people they follow they are often arrogant enough to try and audition people to see who to keep, and who to prune. Altogether now, 'Oh my God !'.

6. Elaborate timewasting. Despite all the above, what I have really grown to despise about Twitter is that it is an appalling waste of time. I've been on there 9 months and can honestly say that at no time has it ever provided entertainment, amusement, enlightenment or any other worthwhile emotion. What I have done is to post stupid comments about nothing and read similar efforts from other people who, like me, surely have better things to do with their time. And when a major world event happens and you see it filtered through the eyes of Twitter, with the weak jokes, facile analysis and ignorant posturing, you really crave the appearance of a massive meteor to wipe us all out. Time spent on Twitter really has no value, you would do better staring at the wall. At least that way you'd consume less electricity.

So, from now on, my ONLY internet presence will be right here on this blog. This is where you will find me. I do not have a followers bar as I think they are crass, and you may leave a comment or not as you please. And unless that comment is needlessly abusive I will publish it. You won't be confined to 140 characters, you won't be embroiled in a pissing contest to see who can think of the funniest thing to say about a tragedy of some type and you will be allowed to express yourself in an intelligent way. It's not much against the tide of naval gazing that my generation seems to be terminally involved with, but it's something.

Michael Jackson

I always had the suspicion that Michael Jackson would not do the 50 odd shows in his upcoming tour, but I didn't expect it to be because he had died. When I woke up this morning and put on the BBC News website I was confronted by the almost unbelievable headline that you have all now seen. Michael Jackson, who in the 80's was slightly more famous than God, is gone. I remember him back then, in his pomp. The 'Thriller' album was a smash in ways that are no longer possible, and he was such a genuinely famous and talented person, that in this era of artificial fame, it's hard to remember that that sort of thing was ever possible. He was my idol as I grew up and I can say I saw him in concert at his very peak. It is very sad that his life has ended like this, he was a genuine megastar, and they just don't seem to make those any more.

Where Can I Do It With A Goat ?

Oh what the Hell, if I'm gonna get weirdos coming to this site under false pretences, then I might as well enjoy it and get a few more hits. And don't forget people, that I can get all your IP addresses. Although quite what I'd do with them I'm not sure, is there a market for blackmailing goat sodomisers ? Answers on a stained postcard.

Anyway, just to try and deal with those that are here to try and get tips on animal buggery I'm afraid I'm not sure. I know it isn't legal and I know it isn't sane, but further than that I can't really help. And so this all means that the title of this post is something of a fraud. But frankly if you are the sort of person that looks at the family cat and thinks 'oh helllooooo...' then I don't feel guilty for conning you.

Actually I'm inside at present hiding from the sun, which is beating down at about 35C and making outside life a bit unlikely. In this weather you either go to the beach and pretend not to look at girls, or you stay inside and sleep. Or in my case you blog. Other than that I have nothing more to add other than I hope you are all having a good weekend. I myself am off tomorrow to swim in my brother-in-law's pool and drink his beer. I hope you are all up to something similarly pleasing.

600

Hooray !! Get out the flags, and dance in a way that is inappropriate for your age !! I have reached my 600th post. And I just want to thank you all for your continued patronage. I shan't bang on about how I was going to end it all at post 600, suffice to say I'm not going to. Instead I am going to carry on writing this blog until either it makes me internationally famous for my blend of trivia, abuse and self-indulgence, or until my internet gets cut off when the authorities discover my sex site called 'The Factory Gets It Out And Waves It About A Bit'. Actually have you ever thought about setting up one of those sites when you do things in front of a webcam and get paid lots of money ? No, neither have I.

And so the virtual bunting is up, I have a virtual glass of champagne held to my lips and I marvel yet again that I have produced 600 pieces of writing. Admittedly a lot of it is absolute bilge, and that to describe it as 'writing' is to be overly generous, but I see from my Statcounter that I still attract an audience, although much of it seems to be of the variety where they have googled something like 'where can you do it with a goat ?' and have come across one of my posts because the word 'it' appears in the title. Still, I count those hits too.

So, please be advised, that in this world of Facebook and Twitter, and where many of my blog chums seem to be neglecting their blogs, I shall not do so. I will be here, and stupid, whenever you need me.

He's Probably At His Handsome Class

That line, taken from Woody Allen's 'Sleeper' and which is used to describe a more attractive, but absent love rival, is one of my favourite bits of bitterness. Anyone who likes a bit of seething bitterness could do worse than watch the canon of early Woody, because you'll find an awful lot of it. I always responded to it a great deal because growing up I was not an oil painting. Skinny to the point of medical concern, with sticky out ears, fashion sense that should have resulted in execution and a tendency towards shyness that made a mute person look chatty. Thus, as a teenager I never got many dates.

But then I got older, filled out and started to improve a bit as most men do. In my last English job I showed the secretary pool a photo of me when I was 10 years younger and they all said, to a woman, that they couldn't understand how I could ever have got a girlfriend back then. They were quick to say that I had improved with age, but the damage to my ego was done. Having said that it had been done much earlier than that. When I was growing up, the sort of square-jawed handsomeness that I saw in films was as far away from me as a distant galaxy. I used to miss out ALL the time on girls because a handsomer specimen would often hove into view and hoover up all the talent. It didn't matter that they had personalities that would make a corpse look lively, they were just good looking, and that was all that mattered.

This quickly fostered a misanthropy in me and an urgent need to develop a sense of humour. Quick question for you, how many beautiful people are also funny ? Not many ? Well, that's because they don't need to be. It's the rest of us that need to draw up a microphone, and work furiously through every date. And there's another Woody Allen line that I love, when an ex-wife tells him that he was much more fun before they got married he says that to keep up that level of charm all the time would have given him a heart attack. EXACTLY.

My colleague and me developed a phrase for this ability to be amusing to order, we called it 'comedy trousers'. We had both developed the skill, and could recognise a fellow practitioner. And even today, now that we're both old and married, we still retain the skill set. When we first met at college it was like realising someone else had the same disease as you. That compulsion to amuse people whether they liked it or not. But I'm straying somewhat from my point.

The reason I am talking about all this is because this afternoon I had a walk along the beach. Lovely stuff given that the beach happens to border the Med. And this means a plethora of beautiful people. And yes there were girls and there were bikinis and there were images that will be burnt onto my subconscious for life. But I'm sure you'd rather not hear about that. No, what I refer to here are the men I saw down there. There was a volleyball thing going on and this meant men stripped to the waist. Young, handsome men. And we're talking Meditteranean men so ladies, imagine that your knees are knocking together right now. And as I was strolling past them, my habitual feeeling of seething hatred didn't arrive for some reason. I've been trying to exercise lately and I thought I was quite pleased with the results, until today. Now I realise I'd be better off wearing a bin-liner in the street and shouting 'unclean' as people walk past.

Because, ladies and gentlemen, these guys are so handsome that they make heterosexual men wet. There's no handsome class here, more like a Doctorate in advanced gorgeousness and a thesis in being wonderful. But I didn't feel bitter, more in awe, in fact I felt like stopping and applauding and saying 'okay you win, can I go back to the Playstation now ?'. And the irritated teenager has now been stilled, because now I get it. It doesn't matter that these guys may have the charisma of a flat patch of manure, because they look so good. And now I realise how the world works, and that I came second. And oddly this realisation provides me with a great deal of peace.

Let's Get Small

In the uncle business, I'm a bit of an expert. Over the years I have worked with ten nieces and nephews, and I like to think that I've acquitted myself pretty well. Uncling isn't as easy as it looks, for instance you have care of a child but no say in how he or she is dealt with. This can be frustrating, especially if he or she is playing up. On the other hand that is the privilege that only parenthood buys you.

Anyway, today I added my eleventh to the collection, as pictured to the left. I have been to inspect her this afternoon and she seems to have promise. Small yes, but that seems to be unavoidable in one's early days. On the plus side she does have cute little ears and long eyelashes. Beyond that it's too early to say but it is rather awesome to be present on the very first day of someone's life. What exactly will she see in her life ? Given current life expectancies she is more than likely to be around to toast in the 22nd century whilst I will by that time be no more than a low resolution digital photograph on a dusty hard drive. If I'm lucky.

When I was first an uncle at the age of just 13, it occured to me then that here was part of the generation that would replace me, and now I realise that more than ever. But, I've still got a few good years in me, and most of my teeth. And I'm certain that my new niece will have an interesting stay on this freaky green planet that she has just been deposited on for no apparent reason. In the meantime I shall be on hand to offer whatever advice I can.

What The Fuck ?

Well, irony upon ironies. After we've spent the last few years marching round the world and telling them how to behave, it appears that we don't even have our own house in order. We the British seem to have just elected two far right politicians to Europe. Not only is this an international embarrassement, but it also shows the gulf between the way we project ourselves to the world and the reality.

It's also sad to see how well the UK Independence party has done, an organisation that wants us to leave Europe and isolate ourselves even more than now. But it's the success of the BNP that is most worrying. It may well be a protest vote, but this type of thing has been gathering momentum for a while, and not all those who voted see it that way. Many must believe the creed that 'non-British' people should be sent home. The idea of 'racial purity' is nonsensical of course, as we are all descended from a small group of people in Africa. In recent times the concept of being British is all but meaningless as we are the result of countless invasions over the centuries. And so, the cut off line that these people seek to establish between British and non-British is arbitrary and ultimately ridiculous. 

But we all know these things of course. And yet enough people voted for this tripe that there are now going to be two BNP politicians representing our country at international level. This makes me cringe, and I'm horrified as to what the rest of Europe will think. After all the lecturing we've done to other countries about democracy, freedom and our way of life, it seems that a lot of work needs to be done at home before we go off on any more international adventures. And anyone who thinks it's all a big joke, to be shrugged off in that way that we British do so well should pause for thought. This isn't some survey in a magazine or a silly TV vote on something. This is a real election where people have voted for the BNP and elected two of them. How much more of this needs to go on before we wake up ?  

I Love My PS3

Yes I'm a gaming nerd. I could bore you with stories of a wasted life behind the joystick but I won't. I know that the people that visit me here don't like games much so I don't really write about them. But I just couldn't resist writing a little about a new game called Gran Turismo 5. It's a driving game, it's photo-realistic and it is amazing to play. At least the extended preview that they released last year was.

But now the mothership is on the horizon, the full game. God knows how big it will be but if current standards are anything to go by it'll probably take years to play properly. Not only that but it further establishes the PS3 as the console of choice. After a shaky start and a powerful propaganda campaign from Microsoft the PS3 looked like a failure. But not now, now it is the daddy once more. And I'm so very glad I invested in one. Oh, and blu-ray won too didn't it ? Tee-hee.

Just Get A Room. On Your Own.

It must be June, because my local gym is now full with some of the most annoying people to have ever lived. But let me be clear, when I say I go to the gym what I really mean is that I go to the swimming pool. Because if I ever went to the actual gym, it's certain that my picture would be splashed over every newspaper in the world within 24 hours. Why, because I would have picked up an automatic weapon and gone on a rampage, that's why. Gyms contain some of the most preposterous tossers on the planet. People (usually men) that feel a cartoon style muscular physique is a superior replacement for brains, charm and self-awareness.

So I go to the pool every day, particularly as I don't seek muscles, instead I seek staying alive past the age of 40. And for the most part I keep my head down. Some of the other people down there are pensioners that just walk up and down in the baby pool. There are some others like me that are just normal people that want to get fit. But then there are the poseurs. People who seem to be under the misapprehension that they are trainng for the next Olympics. And thus they wear expensive swimming stuff, invariably have a collection of foam toys that they swim around with, and worst of all they spend an hour warming up before going into the actual water.

And those that have good bodies know it. You can see that from the cocky looks on their faces, and the exaggerated warm ups where they seem to be saying to everyone else 'take a good look people, for now you look upon perfection'. And strangely enough, no-one ever seems to go up to them and say 'you know, I've been watching you for a while now and it is my earnest opinion that you should be executed'. It seems that Narcissism has become socially acceptable. What next, a meeting of the 'God I'm Great !' club at the local village hall ? Well, I'm sorry but I'm not playing this game. These people are shallow, wothless cretins and that we look up to people like this explains a lot about the ills of society. Being fit is important, but when it gets to the point of such public self love it must be stopped, with a shotgun if necessary. These people really need to lock themselves in a room with a jar of handcream and get it out of their systems.

Monday Morning Minder

This is a special treat for M'Colleague, and for any other fans of classic 80's British TV. But mainly it's for the Soanester, as a little reminder of what I still feel is the very best seduction technique for him to employ. A dance to this music with one's thumbs thrust casually into one's belt loops is an infallible lady magnet. Maybe.