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Contrary to popular belief, I'm not so arrogant that I can't admit
when I'm wrong.
For many years I've mocked my dear Father (AKA Git-Man) because
of his strange obsession with the Rat Pack. For years I was annoyed by his adoration of Frank Sinatra, and the fact that he
almost cried when the news broke of his death in May 1998, in fact I just made a face and moaned about "Git-Man Music" on
that hot spring day when all my dad did was sit in the garden and listen to Frank and his dead mates croon on Radio Two.
Oh how the mighty fall.
As I type I am sitting listening to "Eee-O, The Best of the Rat Pack"
and what's more, I know all the lyrics. That truly is why this lady, is a tramp.
I don't know what happened to me. One day I went to bed hating
Frank Sinatra and the Rat Pack crew, and the next morning awoke singing "My Way" at the top of my voice. Robbie Williams,
of course, had a big influence, I went out and brought that "Swing When You're Winning" album, but it's not like I just enjoy
the Rat Pack music sung by Williams, I am actually a fan of the Rat Pack.
I'm so glad that my dad doesn't do computers, because he'd be beaming
with scary "she's-seen-the-light" pride about now. There must be pills I could take, surely?
I suppose I always hated FS and the Rat Pack because I was named
Laura because of the Frank Sinatra song of the same name, which my dad heard on the radio, the morning I was born (I know,
enchanting isn't it? Until you remember than I am stuck with this name, forever). I always scowled when the song came on the
radio, and threw strops regarding my parents choice of Christian name, until that day when I was visited by the Rat Pack fairy,
some may even have said it was Witchcraft. Suddenly I loved the song "Laura" and signed my name with pride (although
the film "Laura" is still absolute crap, I would say "watch it and see" but I'm not that nasty).
So kick back, light up a cigar and shove some Frank Sinatra on
the stereo, although I know it's strictly tabooooooo......Mr. Sinatra, you may have had people killed for a
laugh and been a right chauvinist, but I salute you.
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Laura
Laura is the face in the misty light
Footsteps that you hear
down the hall
The laugh that floats on a summer night
That you can never quite recall
And you see Laura on a
train that is passing through
Those eyes, how familiar they seem
She gave your very first kiss to you
That was Laura,
but she's only a dream.
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I Get A Kick Out of You
My story is much too sad to be told,
But practically
everything leaves me totally cold.
The exception I know is the case
When I'm out on a quiet spree,
Fighting
vainly the old ennui,
And I suddenly turn and see your fabulous face.
I get no kick from champagne.
Mere alcohol
doesn't thrill me at all.
So tell me why should it be true
That I get a kick out of you?
Some, they may go for
cocaine.
I'm sure that if I took even one sniff
It would bore me terrifically, too.
Yet I get a kick out of you.
I
get a kick every time I see
You standing there before me.
I get a kick though it's clear to see
You obviously do
not adore me.
I get no kick in a plane.
Flying too high with some gal in the sky
Is my idea of nothing
to do.
Yet I get a kick - um you give me a boot - I get a kick out of you.
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