If you ever needed any convincing of one of my key life rules – never trust a man in leather gloves – I give you this:
It's as though this glove is attached to the arm of someone crouching behind the bench, and it's all ready to wrap itself around the neck of the first person who really needs a sit-down.
Anyone want to play a lyrics quiz with the title of this post? No, because no one's actually reading this blog yet.
Found at: London Bridge station, on the way to platforms 14-16.
Tori Amos, Leather. Song that I only ever get in my head at inappropriate times, although, in saying this I realise there are few appropriate times for it. Except at a Tori gig or possibly a visit to the torture garden.
ReplyDelete*wins quiz*
*reads blog*