The Fast Forward Revue

In the thick of one of my periodic rounds through the old Oxford Concise Dictionary (a badly stitched-up Sixth Edition from 1976), I recently happened upon an old favourite and friend of mine: the word ”blasé”.

Now, it is difficult to describe why I like this word so much… No, that’s a lie: actually, come to think of it, it’s not difficult at all. It’s because the word is French. And the OCD defines it quite simply as follows:

blasé (a.) Cloyed with or tired of pleasure.

It both amazes and terrifies me that pleasure can be tiresome – and still more yet that I know from experience that this is a very true and very common phenomenon. Yes, dear readers, I have had those days when I’ve felt oh-so-blasé. Blah blah blasé, one could say. I think that could be the name of a band. Aha! Yes, upon a brief perusal of the Internet, my suppositions have been confirmed: Blah Blah Blasé is in fact a band, and here is an exciting performance at 93 Feet East of theirs, in which the lead singer is wearing excitingly skinny trousers. Hm… further research indicates that the band has separated. Shame…