I don’t love the Corrs, I have never loved the Corrs and what I didn’t need whilst we were out enjoying a lovely meal on the west coast, was to be barraged by film clips of, you guessed it, the Corrs.
Allow me to set the scene… We had caught the train over to Greymouth (awesome trip - I highly recommend it if you’re interested) and tried to figure out where would be a good place to eat dinner before the Union started (well done Oz by the way). We chose the Ale House as we didn’t have a car and could enjoy a few bevvies and walk back to the hotel with fly paper walls (but that’s a WHOLE other story). We sat down and ordered and notice that the flat screen TV on the wall was playing video clips as background noise in the restaurant part and there was another flat screen by the bar which was playing Rugby League (which never happens)… So I tossed up asking the waitress if we could have the league on the other TV but as the music wasn’t too bad and some other people seemed to be enjoying it so I left it at that…
After a very long list of questionable taste songs (most recently Simply Red) I commented that I would be forced to leave the restaurant mid meal if they played the Corrs… and within seconds of the words escaping my mouth, there it was, in living colour, “Breathless” by the afore mentioned catastrophe known as The Corrs.
What ensued was little more than a torturous half an hour where every second song appeared to be performed by them - even songs they ripped off by other artists (sorry to Fleetwood Mac) … it was not funny… unless you were Jordan who, with beer almost escaping out of his nose while hysterically laughing, proceeded to mock me and call my bluff about leaving said restaurant. However, given the demographic of the town we were in, and the fact that I am directionally challenged - I managed to survive the evening without storming out of the place and leaving The Corrs in my wake.
Now, where was the number for that therapist….