On our recent drive south from the Highlands there was a song that briefly seemed to be following us. First at an emergency food stop in a McDonald’s in Carlisle, and then the next day on XFM, as we rolled back into London.
Its key feature was the the refrain, which seemed to say, repeatedly: “You own a tank-top.”
While I can see the logic of outing someone for that particular crime against fashion, I was fairly sure it was a mondegreen.
So when I was back at a computer, I searched for “you own a tank top” lyrics mondegreen. No hits.
It’s kind of disappointing to know the truth. I’m listening to it as I type, and I can’t hear it saying “you own a tank-top” any more. Still, it has entered family lore, and will always be known that way to us.
In the interests of full disclosure, I should note that I once owned a tank-top. In my defence, it was the seventies, and I was seven.
Also, my nephew, Paul, who is travelling around Australia and other far-off places, and blogging about it, once tried to introduce me to The Courteeners. I wasn’t super-impressed, but I quite like this track.