CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX“Amarillo Brillo – Frank Zappa”
“Brooklyn Dreams – Neil Diamond.”
“You can’t have Neil Diamond,” Laroche objected. They were playing cities in song titles, alphabetically, in the terminal stages of boredom. “On taste grounds. You can have Barcelona by Freddie Mercury, if you like. I had it up my sleeve ready but I’m giving it to you.”
“I don’t like. I’m going with… Billericay Dickie – Ian Dury.”
“Century City – Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, which is a double. Woop, woop.”
“OK. Buried in Detroit – Mike Posner.”
“El Paso – can’t think the f**k who… it’s coming, it’s coming…”
“I’m going to have to hurry you.”
“Marty Robbins!”
And so they went on, ploughing from Kashmir by Led Zeppelin, through Meet Me in St Louis by Judy Garland which was a bit of a low point, to
