My rather marvellous 40 gigabyte MP3 player contains somewhere in the region of 4,000 songs. I might even have listened to some of them, because my musical taste, like me, is excellent.
I do, however, have managed to acquire a number of songs which are, by any definition, not excellent at all. These are titles which earn me a "You saddo" sneer from my twelve-year-old daughter, and twelve is far too young an age to have a "you saddo" sneer for your dear old dad.
I care not for what she thinks, for I have two words to offer her in return: Lindsay Lohan.
Amongst the sadness that appears on my otherwise excellent player:
* Bananarama - Robert de Niro's Waiting
* Limahl - Never Ending Story (12" mix - eight minutes and 16 seconds of pure eighties cheese)
* Daz Sampson - Teenage Life
* This year's Eurovision entries from Georgia and France
* Abba - Dancing Queen
* The Divine Comedy - My Lovely Horse
* An obsessively collected complete Ultravox back catalogue including all released material from former band members Midge Ure, John Foxx and Billy Currie, including an almost sacrilegious extended dance version of 'Vienna' performed by a singer who is not Midge Ure. It's pretty bad.
I have deleted all the Coldplay. I might be a saddo, but I've still got standards.
You know what's coming: 'fess up, people.