I often find myself thinking of Martin Soan. I think of him when I hear the phrase “my giddy aunt” or see some meerkats in a zoo.

Most often though, I think of him when I clean the gunk out of the hair trap in our shower drain.

Martin has a bit where he comes on stage to Serge Gainsbourg’s Je t’aime, while “erotically” tugging some grotty-looking wool out of a section of drain pipe.

The music scratches to a halt and he says “Cor, I love doing that.”

I probably think of that every single morning.

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