As a famous band once said, ‘The Winner’s Steaks Are Tall’. Ah yes, that 70s classic about winning a steak dinner, with the thickest, juiciest steaks on offer. Back then they used to sing about real things, like winning steak dinners and people who dressed up like soldiers to entertain audiences (‘Trooper Trouper’) even though it went against their anti-war beliefs.
Nowadays people just sing about relationships, or not even that. Just quick flings.
I’m starting to think that those freaky fleet people have the right idea, heading out to sea and getting away from all the drama, except for having to get help from an outboard motor service specialist. Melbourne would have to be a major port of call, but if you’re only dealing with the honest dock folks, then maybe you could make it work.
I’ve heard about people who have a sort of time-share with the ocean and the land. They broke away, but still spend a lot of their time on boats because it seems natural to them. Must be nice and peaceful, floating out on the ocean all by yourself, not being bothered by horrible modern music because you’re just so far out that you can’t get radio signals. Oh drat, what a shame, so terrible. I’d never have to hear about that one guy singing about how he came into the room like a demolition orb, or literally anything by Honey Tiger. If I’m food shopping and I hear that Love/Chorizo song one more time I’m going to start tipping over the shelves, don’t even think I won’t. I hate it with a great and powerful fury.
That’s it: I’m at least getting myself a houseboat and living on the fringe of society. That way I can still duck in for major events, but I’ll be maintaining a healthy bit of distance. I’ll talk to the qualified boat mechanics around Melbourne, but the rest of the city? They can go about their lives, listening to awful tunes. I won’t be able to hear.