Poetic licence, my arse!

Some lyrics are just not good enough, and this particular gem reduced my to giggles while at work this morning:

From Billy Joel - Piano Man:

It's nine o'clock on a Saturday
The regular crowd shuffles in
There's an old man sitting next to me
Making love to his tonic and gin.

I'm sorry Billy, I just don't want that sort of imagery! I reckon that sort of thing has a very poor pleasure to potential damage ratio too.

(no subject)

In other news, that's one hell of a sunset in the north!