Fogey

It’s such a fogey thing to say, but last night driving back from ambo and I’m listening to the radio and songs about nothing. Really, people singing about nothing, narcissistic little sods, ‘girl’ this, ‘girl’ that, these fatuous odes to people they don’t even bother to name, just ‘girl’. The girls are just as bad, ‘me me me me me’. It all seeps with entitlement and vanity, and thrusting hands around, striking poses.

Poses. So many poseurs.

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