Yes. Before you start, I KNOW suburbian isn’t word. But it should be.
So, the other night I was at that point in the evening when you know you should be going to bed but, in actual fact, you are nursing the dregs of a bottle of wine (that was part of the M&S meal deal) and watching crap on tele.
As is the case in these situations, we flicked through the channels and happened upon the top 10 hits of Queen. Or something to that effect. Now (bearing in mind that a week or so before when watching Alison Hammond on Strictly, my husband revealed he had not recognised the song Wuthering Heights, or who sang it) we had whittled our way down to the top Queen song ever and THIS conversation happened:
Husband: I wonder what no.1 will be?
Me: Er…duh! Bohemian Rhapsody.
Husband: Oh, yes. Of course.
(We watch for a few minutes. Yes, I was singing along)
Husband: So, can he really sing?
Me: Freddie Mercury?
Husband: Yes. Can he sing? I mean, really.
Me: Er, YES!!
Husband: But, I mean…would he win The Voice?
Yes. I was as stunned into silence, as I presume you are.
My husband is a reasonably sane man and, whilst not well-versed in 80s pop (he grew up in SA), he is reasonably cultured.
Or so I thought.
Clearly, ignorance of la Bush and questioning the vocal capability of Freddie Mercury calls this into question. Can you seek divorce on grounds of your husband being a musical luddite?
All those misconceptions of married bliss. And another one bites the dust.
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