It won't go away. It just won't leave me. It's a so-called bloody "song". Twelve years it's been around.
I hate Mistletoe and Wine. The world is full of good music of all descriptions. And Mistletoe and Wine. Christmas has been and gone, and yet, I find myself in the smoking room today, with the earworm of Mistletoe and Wine. No, not an earworm, a Trojan Horse and Virus combined, the superbug of earworms. I was telling myself that it was long ago and far away, so for a few brief seconds I had Paradise by the Dashboard Light in my head. On the way home I had King of Pain, briefly. But still bloody Mistletoe and Wine came back to haunt me.
I spent much of the evening playing most of The Chemical Brothers' Singles but as soon as Child of Our Time was finished, the curse of Mistletoe and Wine returned. Briefly it was broken, when the local news carried the story of Wimbledon's roof and illustrated it with that notorious clip of *Sir Cliff* singing Summer Holiday. Not one of his worst songs, indeed, as a toddler, I used to sing it.
And then bleedin' Mistletoe and feckin' Wine returned to my poor little head.
Is shooting too good for Cliff?
