Rob after having spend a night with a woman, who has recently broken up with a fairly well-known American singer-songwriter:
"What, that you´ve slept with someone who´s slept with ..."
(Here she repeats the name of the fairly well-known American singer-songwriter, whom I shall hereafter refer to as Steve).
She´s right! Exactly that! Exactly that! I´ve slept with someone who´s slept with ... Steve! (That sentence sounds stupid without his real name in it. Like, I´ve danced with a man who danced with a girl who danced with ... Bob. But just imagine the name of someone, not really famous, but quite famous - Lyle Lovett, say, although I should point out, for legal reasons, that it´s not him - and you´ll get the idea).
"Don´t be daft, Marie. I´m not that crass. I just meant, you know, it´s amazing that someone who wrote-" (and here I name Steve´s greatest hit, a drippy and revoltingly sensitive ballad) "should be such a bastard" I´m very pleased with this explanation for my amazement. Not only does it get me out of a hole, but it´s both sharp and relevant.
Yeah, I don´t know, Rob. You didn´t quite make it out of that "music nerd" corner.