‘Can’t get Blue Monday out of my head’ is so wrong it’s right
This was first published in Volume 4of our magazine.
It’s 11 am on a Saturday morning in our student house in Newcastle. It’s the morning after the night before, and the inhabitants have just woken from another night of liver abuse. Heads are pounding, bodies are aching. I look like shit, my flatmates look like shit, and the kitchen is an absolute bombsite. There’s empty bottles of Tesco own-brand Vodka kicking about and other high-percentage, low self-respect concoctions that students just can’t get enough of. Seriously, who actually brought that bright blue Frosty Jacks cider? Put them on the blacklist immediately. It’s enough to make my fragile stomach churn.
Still, the show must go on, and at some point, this god-forsaken place must be cleaned. Whack the kettle on. Crack open the Lavazza and make a proper coffee, ‘cause this is going to be a proper hangover. “Alexa, put some music on so I can distract myself from the creeping post-night out anxieties.” Not just any music though. Something to get the blood pumping again. Yes, that’s it. That’s the song. “Alexa, play ‘Can’t Get Blue Monday Out Of My Head’.” My flatmates’ heads turn. A confused look is strewn across their faces. Then it hits them. That iconic drum beat. That funky synth line. And that voice: LA LA LA… Kylie Minogue and New Order have shagged and this is their baby.