Carlsberg Summer Collection

As soon as the bass kicks in he leaps out of his chair. The unlit cigarette falls from his lips. He doesn't notice. He'd put it there several minutes ago and forgot to light it. He probably thought he'd smoked it. Never mind, its absence enables him to freely croon along. It's not a big deal that the only Spanish he knows is 'muy bien' which he belches at regular intervals. He heard someone else shout it in an approving tone. His sole possession is a Carlsberg branded scrap of material. It resembles a tea towel. He waves it in the warm night air, he waves it across people's faces. He launches into an aggressive air drum solo. His eyes are closed. He's 15 and in his bedroom. The tea towel is on his head. He clearly can't communicate his full appreciation and so clambers on stage as the song comes to an end. Perhaps he could fashion the tea towel into a belt. Instead he lurches towards the guitarist. He joins the band discussing which song to play next. It's unanimous. "Muy bien" he slurs. The band starts playing, the guitarist sporting a new Carlsberg cravat.