What would Serge say?

Driving at 100 top down on the freeway past midnight.  Serge would have approved.  He would probably have said non to the late night sugar coated doughnut that's currently gracing my ass, but so what, he's dead; let's live for the moment.

Talking of which, can we discuss the pleasure that were the people we were surrounded by at the Hollywood Bowl tonight?  The Serge Gainsbourg tribute concert (what else?) provided a spectrum of emotions generally confined to "The Real Houswives of Somewhere Real Estate Prices are Currently Falling".  To my left, a woman so obsessed by personal space that she rudely forced Frenetic out of his seat and onto my lap because we were crowding her.  No one's 'crowded" her since 1976, and that's her problem.  To Jill's left, a woman that frankly inspires one to set up a charity for the good rogering of human kind.  I know you want to listen to the music, so do I, but when it's being masacrered by an American singing a language she doesn't understand any wise man would defer to the cheese, wine and conversation.  This is an hommage to France, after all. (FYI, this was only one artist who will remain nameless, the rest were exceptional, especially Sean, Charlotte and Mike)

Anyway Jill's charming neighbour must have died a death when the entire population of women and gay men vocally threw their knickers at the stage in honour of Joseph Gordon-Levitt who sang in a French that would make the infamous interview with Bradley Cooper seem somewhat schoolboy.

Of course, this begs the question:  who was the Frenchest of them all?  She who man-handled a pre-game three shags in an afternoon whilst roasting a picnic chicken of course.  Serge would have said oui...

Back it up back it up like a Tonka truck...

Yes, we're still in LA, so clearly, it's still all about cars.  And because when you have two hands on the wheel your range of distractions is somewhat limited, I have taken to studying the lyrics of rap songs.

Jay-Z and Kanye released their new album 'Watch the Throne' (title: FAIL) this week so let's start with them shall we.  Song three, title: 'Ni**as in Paris', contains the delightful gem:

'She said yeah can we get married at the mall... Come and meet me in the bathroom stall; and show me why you deserve to have it all.'

Also known as an offer you can refuse.  Kanye West is the only rapper that could put Maison Martin Margiela in a rap and take himself seriously.

Next up:

'Back it up back it up like a Tonka truck'

Presumably this is because Tonka trucks are particularly well known for their reversing capabilities?

This shit's from Jennifer Lopez and a friend of her's named Pitbull (who would presumably eat Rabbit and Ping Ping for breakfast), and that's all you need to know.  But whilst searching You Tube to verify that the lyrics were correct and it wasn't just the roar of Montgomery's engine that had led me to mishear, I came across this hot mess:

For those of you that have not had the pleasure of seeing Brits on holiday this is pretty much the shame our nation inflicts on Spain every summer.  It's all about dancing with your top off but your socks still on...

And finally:

'Black car, black rims, black skirt, black skin'

I can't find out who exactly is responsible for this masterpiece, but is it me or isn't there something inherently strange about matching your girlfriend to your car based on skin colour?  If this catches on as a trend I am going to be left in a very difficult situation, because really, I would never date a man that drove a bronze car...