"Let's move before they raise the parking rate" (Alright Now)
Jesus, Rodgers. You know damn well that the local authorities are bound by countless rules and procedures which ensure ample consultation before any fee-based municipal services are altered. Furthermore, if a council body even attempted to bypass these requirements, there'd be an almighty rumpus headed by residents and service-users parish-wide. Shame on you for leading us to believe otherwise.
"Take all your furs and rings, baby but don't you sing hurray" (I'll Be Creepin')
Why the fuck would she sing 'hurray'? It's her stuff! That said I wouldn't be surprised if she felt a modicum of satisfaction at having managed to vacate the relationship with at least some of her belongings. God knows these things are messy at the best of times.
"I'm riding on a pony in the middle of the night" (Ride On A Pony)
Far be it from me to ridicule a man's chosen mode of transport but the time of day has significant safety implications for drivers (I'm assuming Rodgers isn't the sole licenseholder and there's a fair number of other ponyriders using these routes) and pedestrians alike and I'll be damned if I standby and ignore the risk.
OK, let's assume that this isn't the 1970s and we're in a bona fide pony-ridin' era. What sort of outdoor lighting are we expecting here? Back in those days a journey would almost certainly be truncated at sundown and the provisions of an inn or similar establishment would be sought until morning. But, no. Rodgers is out there trotting along with, I suppose, some kind of headgear that supports a candle attachment. Good luck in a gust of wind, Paul, y' prick. In fact a gust of wind isn't necessary. You get that pony up to speed and the plain old laws of physics'll snuff your flame, toot sweet.
Of course if we are in the 1970s I'm dumbfounded as to what exactly is going through his mind as a 61 bus pootles past him. Madness gone mad!
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