Michael Holden's All ears

I walked into a pub the other day, where two grown men were arguing at the bar about which one of them might – in theory – have been the better musician, and loitered on the edge of their spat, feeling calm by comparison, as their antagonism flowed. Man 1 (exasperated) "You've never even heard us play." Man 2 (malign, mischievous) "But I know you're shite." Man 1 "How would you know?" Man 2 "I just know. I can see you in your room now, writing all fucking lyrics and whatnot." Man1 "What do you know about my lyrics?" Man 2 "I know they'll be shite." Man 1 "You talk about it like you know, but what do you do? Sit in your room and play guitar to no one. You've never even been in a band." Man 2 "Tell us some of your lyrics." Man1 "Who's your favourite guitarist?" Man 2 "Whose yours?" Man 1 "Jeff Beck. You're not gonna tell me Jeff Beck can't play guitar?" Man 2 (doing sarcastic air guitar motions) "Jeff Beck, man? Did you never see him with that Celtic clasp round his arm? He's lost the plot." Man 1 "You can't say he can't play because of some … jewellery!" Man 2 "Tell us some of your lyrics." Man 1 "I might write a song about you, you twat." Man 2 "It'd be the best thing you've ever done." Man 1 "Behave yourself now. People are looking." Man 2 "Fuck 'em. Tell us some lyrics." Man 1 "No."