Ma-ai-hii, ma-ai-huu, ma-ai-hoo, ma-ai-haha.
Well it's not true. I secretly love him dearly but if WSO doesn't stop impersonating him whilst I am trying to do this staff paper, I shall firmly thrust this USB stick into his eyeball.
In the Numanian man's calendar, every day is filled with joy and ma-ai-ness. Add to that an open mouthed quotient of infinity, and you've got all the makings of a veritable classic.
Over the course of the short one minute and thirty eight seconds the Numa Numa man's happiness is unveiled. And it is every bit as compelling and richly textured as Bach's Fuga a 5 voci, just to take but one example.
In hues of delight, wonder and rapture as any work in the Shakespearean-esque oeuvre is executed, we are drawn to the Numa Numa man. We grow to love him with the abandon of Jo Beth Taylor wrestling playfully with a handsome stranger in the Crown carpark, with the obsessive commitment Jennifer Jason Leigh showed to mimicking Bridget Fonda's every move circa 1992 or with the mad blood lust like ways of Billy Zane just three years earlier when presented with Nicole Kidman's mound of ginga goodness.
Now back to work Kid A!
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1 comment:
hehe! **secretly goes and sees howmany people he can infect with numa numa at work by singing it softly in the background**
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