Andy Spice

I was in Rundle Mall on Friday night. I had a raft of things to do, and my mind wandered down many alleys whilst simultaneously considering my to-do list.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, two girls appear directly in front of me.

“Hi, sorry… this is embarrassing.” One started.

Juddered out of my state of mind, I smile and say, “That’s okay…”

“This is a bit random…” the other expanded.

“Rrrrright…” I ventured.

“We are entering this competition, right?” the first one continued, “We need to get photos of people pulling a pose like Posh Spice.”

The brain fired many nerves. These people spoke the words that haunted my brain ever since 1997, the band that was the bane of my existence. The Spice Girls.

“So… like a pout or something?”

“Yeah, that’ll do…” the second one said.

Automatically, I began contemplating the various pieces of vitriol I could spout at the mere suggestion that my visage be somehow tied in with the “band” that caused near irreversible damage to my ear drums in the past.

“Okay.”

I complied. So now, there are two girls wandering around this city with a photo of me pulling off some bizarre facial expression, probably saying to each other, “I can’t believe we convinced this guy to pull a face for our camera!!!”

But still, someone managed to mention the Spice Girls in my presence, and I didn’t clamp my hands over my ears, curl up in a foetal position and shout, “Bah, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, not listening, la, la, la, think happy thoughts, la, la, la!!!!!!!!!”

I think I’m making progress away from being the music snob I am…