I am a victim of Wogan

Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.

I fear that the effects of the mass media have finally caught up with me; prolonged exposure has whittled away at my natural defences to the extent that were I a National Trust beach facing erosion from the sea, the trustees would throw up their hands in resignation and say the sea defences have crumbled so extensively that it’s time to let nature take its course and allow the entire village behind to drop into the sea.

I don’t like Lily Allen and I believe I’ve made that clear on this journal before. That said, I find myself humming her latest single, The Fear. This has happened before, where a catch tune gets out and about and sinks its fangs into the old memory, but usually it gets annoying, though after a while it fades and life can resume.

This time it’s different. The rational part of my brain, the bit that looks to see what the pleasure receptors are up to and wags a finger at them, is tapping its foot too. It appears, Lord help me, that I have come to like this song.

I shall now get my iPod out and play something more from the blues/rock end of the musical spectrum in the hope of restoring some kind of equilibrium. Or just give in and keep humming The Fear.

I am a victim of Wogan

Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.

I fear that the effects of the mass media have finally caught up with me; prolonged exposure has whittled away at my natural defences to the extent that were I a National Trust beach facing erosion from the sea, the trustees would throw up their hands in resignation and say the sea defences have crumbled so extensively that it’s time to let nature take its course and allow the entire village behind to drop into the sea.

I don’t like Lily Allen and I believe I’ve made that clear on this journal before. That said, I find myself humming her latest single, The Fear. This has happened before, where a catch tune gets out and about and sinks its fangs into the old memory, but usually it gets annoying, though after a while it fades and life can resume.

This time it’s different. The rational part of my brain, the bit that looks to see what the pleasure receptors are up to and wags a finger at them, is tapping its foot too. It appears, Lord help me, that I have come to like this song.

I shall now get my iPod out and play something more from the blues/rock end of the musical spectrum in the hope of restoring some kind of equilibrium. Or just give in and keep humming The Fear.