Eine Kleine Nichtmusik

Witty and pertinent observations on matters of great significance OR Incoherent jottings on total irrelevancies OR Something else altogether OR All of the above

Sunday, April 14, 2013

Oooh arrrr

My parents came from Dorset in the South-West of England, but I was born in Manchester. Now the accents typical of residents of those areas are a little different, and as a child I spoke pretty much like my parents (after half a century of moving around England and Scotland my accent these days is hard to pin down). So when I first went to school I was forever being surrounded by a crowd of older kids who wanted to hear me talk. Well, when you're backed into a corner of the playground by a crownd whose collective IQ is almost equal to your own and who demand "Say something", what do you do? You say anything you want - they won't understand it anyway. As a naturally talkative soul I took little encouragement to become a raconteur and wit (OK, smug bore and teller of bad jokes).

All of which is just by way of a DJ's intro to this track which I first heard a couple of days ago. The original song, of course, was the UK's 1996 Eurovision entry, perfomed by Gina G and vanishing without trace. The Wurzels - who sing better than Gina - are a Dorset band who used to be fronted by the great Adge Cutler, and some of whose early hits were penned by Trevor Crozier, best man at my brother's wedding. If only I'd been able to sing this to my interlocutors......


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