We're in the car, and I'm torturing G by not only playing, but also singing along to, the Pet Shop Boys' "West End Girls" ...
G: Oh my GAWD, do we have to listen to this?
Me: This is classic stuff. Classic! Pure 1986!
G: It's not 1986.
Me: Well, think of this as me giving you an education in great music from the past.
G: Aargh ...
Me: TOO MANY SHADOWS, WHISPERING VOICES
Me: FACES ON POSTERS, TOO MANY CHOICES
Me: IF, WHEN, WHY, WHAT, HOW MUCH HAVE YOU GOT?
G: This is so embarrassing.
Me: See, look at the sticker on that car in front of us, waiting to turn. The Sisters of Mercy. That's another fine eighties band.
Me: Of course, you're probably thinking that this just means we're behind a car driven by old people.
G: You read my mind.