Sitting here in my Georgian Caribbean style all-inclusive resort on Seven Mile Beach, I'm struck by the number of Germans there are in the British West Indies.
Americans I can understand. I mean, it's only a hop from the States. But Germans?
The top act out here is some wizened old, peroxided Kraut who arrived with a guitar (and no talent) in the 70s. This tuneless Teuton goes by the sobriquet of 'Barefoot Man'. He plays quite irritating, twiddly-diddly Calypso. If you can imagine Rolf Harris in lederhosen singing the banana boat song, you wouldn't even begin to be getting close to the horror.
All I can say is: "Why?" Already I'm missing Elton.