Last night I referred to my supposedly "dodgy" taste in music. But that was only a mere preface to telling you about a particularly embarrassing incident last Friday, at the end of which the Sad Man Police should surely have arrested me.
My new office is in a shared building and my work colleagues and our neighbours are still getting to know each other.
As part of this process, I was talking to a lady in the corridor and - for a reason that escapes me - she asked me what music I listened to.
And, not for the first time, I was thrown.
I hate this question, you see. Because I instantly think of those who mock me, and I get paranoid.
So, over the years, I've developed a bit of a trick. What I do is list the bands or singers I'm planning to see in concert in the months ahead. And, because the acts are touring, it normally means they're relatively current and I don't look too much of a twonk in front of whoever it is I'm talking to. That's the theory, anyhow.
So, back to last Friday, and this lady asking me THAT question.
"Er, well, I'm going to see Take That in June!" I replied enthusiastically, before panicking after playing what I'd just said (and how I'd just said it) back in my head.
"Er...I haven't got any other concerts planned as yet...I've seen them before....er....I saw Robbie Williams live once too....er....have nice day then."
And I hope she did.
Mine never recovered.
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