“I’m gonna write a classic
I’m gonna write it in an attic”

There is a suggestion here that some good person heard Mr Gurvitz’s claim, followed him home on the day he finally decided to write said classic, and put a big fuck-off padlock on the attic door. In a Victoria Andrews sort of way, Adrian is still in there, being tortured by his own genius songwriting, with the knowledge that due to this somewhat stupid venue for songwriting, he has been doomed to keep his classic to himself. His ghost lingers still, humming his classic, humming it in his attic after he starved to death.

Any suggestion that the order for big fuck-off padlocks that I made in the early eighties is related to Adrian’s one hit-wonderliness is sheer coincidence. But is Fran out of Travis wants to tell me where he is going to write his next ‘Classic’, I am sure a similar kind of accident can be arranged.