Haffirmateev · 11 December 2001
We’re going out tonight, and I fear it’ll happen again.
Every time I say I’ll make with the nicey-nice and sip my drink, stumble over the language to comic effect, eat the hors d’oeuvres and not raise any hackles, but there’s always a chance it’ll happen again. I’m afraid that tonight, lost to a flash of curiosity – the sort that forever tugs away at the inexplicable – I’m going to turn to someone and ask: what the fuck is it with you people and Serge Gainsbourg?
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