“I mean, have you actually read the lyrics of this thing?” Robert asked, his indignence at its highest level.
“Of course I have,” Wendy replied. “What sort of fan would I be if I”
“Semolina pilchard, climbing up theEiffelTower? I mean, what the fudge?”
“Look, there are several interpretations of the meaning, but at the end of the day it was Lennon screwing with people who analysed Beatles’ lyrics.”
“Its nonsense!” Robert snapped.
“Yes, but its good nonsense, with some genius sprinkled over.”
She looked at the bloody whip in her hand and sighed.
“I think the moment’s gone now.”