Tim: This is from the wonderful Cloudy With A Chance Of Meatballs 2, and if that combined with the title doesn’t give you an idea of the saccharine tidal wave that’s rapidly heading this way, there’s something wrong with you.
Tom: Oh crikey. He didn’t even bother with lyrics for most of the chorus.
Tim: The ukelele often irritates me as an instrument, just because it’s basically a guitar foetus and grown men can’t possibly look sensible holding them; Cody here is a case in point.
Tom: Bloody hell, Tim. “Guitar foetus.” That’s going to stick with me for a while.
Tim: You’re very welcome. Entirely not worth noting are the lyrics, being entirely bland – so much so that, as you pointed out, by the chorus the lyricist has given up any pretence that there was once a meaning there and is now just basically putting syllables in an order.
However, neither of those things put me off this because, meaningless as it is, the chorus is just lovely. I’m sure there are grumpy bastards out there who won’t have any of it, but I’ve got a big smile on my face and it’s not going anywhere.
Tom: I can’t even get grumpy about it. It’s just… it’s nothing. It’s like candyfloss: it dissolves instantly, and leaves just a faint wisp of sugar behind. Also, just like candyfloss, I don’t partiuclarly care for it.
Tim: Hmm. Candyfloss is exactly right, actually. But it works for me.