I'm taking a stand. I don't like him. I know he's gay and post-modern and has floppy hair and is adored by all the lentil-eating-gays, but, really, no matter how witty the songs, why does he have to sing them in such a whiny whingy "Belle and Sebastian after a good slapping" way?
Plus his dad was the worst thing about Jasper Carrott's TV show. And that's saying something.
On the subject of Belle and Sebastian, I once lost a boyfriend to those whinnying artwits. After a couple of weeks of chaste, magnificent dating, we started to kiss in a very significant There Will Be Sex way. And then Belle and Sebastian came on the radio, moaning about how they'd tripped and grazed their knee and the plaster stung or some such waste of spittle.
"Do you mind if we turn this off?" I said, "Only, you're really important to me, and I don't want this moment ruined by Belle and Sebastian."
The temperature in the room plummeted. "They're my favourite band," he said, leaning over to call me a taxi.