In my view one of the silliest sayings in modern business parlance is “bring (something) to the table” or its variant “put it on the table.” Nevertheless I can live with it more than I can live or abide the vastly more ubiquitous “going forward.” So I was only mildly aggrieved at what that great philosopher of the modern age, Robbie Williams, brought to the table—or more accurately—my newspaper this week. Now, you’ll remember Robbie. He hasn’t had a hit for a while, but he had a string of them a while back. He also had a well-publicised fling in the Metropolis while here, which was by all accounts more satisfying to the flingee than the flinger. But I digress. No, the latest revelation about Mr Williams is that he injects himself with testosterone twice a week. He believes—and I quote him here—that it improves his skin, hair and memory. At least he can now remember when he last had a hit. Fair enough Robbie, testosterone is a welcome change from what some singers inject themselves with. But what I then found a little off-putting is his revelation/epiphany of the true meaning of life. At least his life. But he also implies that it covers all humanity. It appears that I have for all of my 60 years laboured under the misconception that I was born here only to make up the numbers and to slag off at Hamilton. Not so. If Mr Williams is correct, and I use his words here as published by the Herald today: “We are built to F***” Wow, and here I was dwelling on the superficiality of life, when Mr Williams finds, identifies and expounds its true complexity. Thanks Robbie. I feel enriched. I am taking my wife to the Metropolis tonight to celebrate.
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