Briefly imprisoned in a jazz brunch this past Easter weekend, I made short work of a benedictinized egg while staring balefully at the musical trio wedged into a corner beside the buffet.
"Keyboard" balanced on a foldable stand, double bass and an apparently double-jointed singer: Here's one you might remember, the singer mumbles. It's only a Paper Moon.
Paper Moon? A song I might remember? I'm not a thousand years old ... unlike the blueberries in this fruit salad melange thing.
"That's Frankie Lomax there on the double bass." Bom, bom, bom, bom-bom, bom, bom, bom-bom.
Oh for Chrissakes. Where's that bloody mimosa I ordered?