By The Heartbreaks
I've been in this situation before. You meet a girl on holiday, instantly take a fancy to her, get talking and get to know each other on a personal level, share a kiss on the dancefloor, she's rattled with confusion and suddenly becomes indifferent, she realises (about three days later) that you're the one, comes back, you share the rest of your holiday together, she becomes the one, the holiday finishes, you're convinced you're going to marry her, she never gets in touch, you lose contact and end up spending the rest of your days in a black hole with only hazy memories of your secret trysts for comfort. Ah Lisa, where are you now?
Can't really compare myself to The Heartbreaks though. I mean, I was only eight years old on a single parent family club week away in Keswick. In this case, our pop crusaders cover their sinister sexual lust with a shimmering melody almost as infectious as a holiday bout of chlamydia. "Tell me about your boyfriend", the singer demands, before questioning whether he treats his bird as well as what he should. Whether that means flowers and chocolate or an eight inch knob remains to be seen.
The accompanying album is called 'Funtimes', something I'm sure Polly's boyfriend wasn't having when she came home with a rash thanks to The Heartbreaks. I doubt he'll like this record. I do.
Canesten cream all round, then.