On a bus journey from Newcastle to York last weekend I was forced to endure the driver's dubious taste in music. This included a Cher triple bill, which counts as at least three Cher songs too many.
Not being able to do anything about it, except perhaps stuff my socks in my ears, I endured this test by examining the lyrics of her song If I Could Turn Back Time. This includes the refrain:
"If I could reach the stars,
I'd give them all to you.
Then you'd love me, love me
Like you used to do."
Now, forgive me for my ignorance, as I've never lived a glamorous Hollywood lifestyle where perhaps such behaviour is entirely normal, but I find this a very strange sentiment to express. I mean, seriously, Ms Sarkisian, though it would undoubtedly be impressive if you could somehow extend your arms to a distance of at least four-and-a-quarter light years and grab hold of enormous fireballs and bring them down to Earth, what the heck would I then do with them? Really, Cher, where would I keep an infinity of massive, luminous, plasmatic spheres? And, more importantly, how exactly would they make me love you?
It's almost as puzzling as Katie Melua's comprehension of the universe.
Not being able to do anything about it, except perhaps stuff my socks in my ears, I endured this test by examining the lyrics of her song If I Could Turn Back Time. This includes the refrain:
"If I could reach the stars,
I'd give them all to you.
Then you'd love me, love me
Like you used to do."
Now, forgive me for my ignorance, as I've never lived a glamorous Hollywood lifestyle where perhaps such behaviour is entirely normal, but I find this a very strange sentiment to express. I mean, seriously, Ms Sarkisian, though it would undoubtedly be impressive if you could somehow extend your arms to a distance of at least four-and-a-quarter light years and grab hold of enormous fireballs and bring them down to Earth, what the heck would I then do with them? Really, Cher, where would I keep an infinity of massive, luminous, plasmatic spheres? And, more importantly, how exactly would they make me love you?
It's almost as puzzling as Katie Melua's comprehension of the universe.
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