There is a reason I am standing in front of an entire French village clutching a microphone and preparing to launch into a rendition of Sonny and Cher’s “I got you babe”. That reason (other than beer, and the effect it has on my perception of my singing capability) is the insidious figure that society generally refers to as “the man”. Allow me to explain.
Wherever you go in the world, there will exist “the man”. As far as I can tell, this man is responsible for ensuring that anything that might be deemed to be a fun and exciting activity is carefully frowned upon, and metered out in small chunks.