Muzak beats the love of food

He insisted that everything sounded the same - which at one time was what Muzak (the name of a record company, don't forget) was designed to do - provide anonymous sounds that acted as aural 'wallpaper.' Eventually, old codgers like me will recall, the whole genre became known as muzak - a real term of abuse.

Apparently Derek Bailey, the free-improvising guitar genius, for he's the geezer I'm talking about, also spent airport waiting time listening to the music once wafted out on the PA. Brian Eno is also on record as saying he liked to do this.

Public spaces pump out music all the time, and I really wish they wouldn't. In a restaurant I'd prefer to hear the sound of knives, forks, chomping and slurping plus the discreet murmur of husbands trying to sweet talk wives (someone else's) to Mick Bloody Hucknall or Cher's 'Warkin in Memfuss'.

The whole vile business ruins the meal - and the music. I'm getting so I can't stand the former Mrs Bono, and Sharleen Spiteri is going the same way. And I used to enjoy both in a neutral take it or leave it sort of way. Hucknall I can't stand at any price, who can?

The only cheese I want in an eaterie comes with biscuits and a few grapes or celery.

Live restaurant pianists (cocktail jazz, anyone?) should all be shot and the accordion should be outlawed by an EU directive. Don't get me started on the Oirish thing. Anyone got any pet restaurant music hates?