Look, I am NEVER going to be skinny enough to pretend I'm Callista Flockhart and I draw the line at suggestions of a resemblance to Peter MacNicol, aka John Cage, aka The Biscuit, from Ally McBeal. Even if there is one.... slightly. Probably.
Nonetheless, I do find myself occasionally having a theme tune. Whenever the Braxton Hicks started (and I've been through that malarky four times now),'my tune' was David Bowie's Changes.
Cha-cha-cha-cha-changes (Turn and face the strain) Cha-cha changes!
Yeah, OK, don't say it.
The really awkward part was when I would be walking home from the local shops, two argumentative kids in tow, a heavy shopper in each hand and then the belly would go, 'ping!', from vaguely flexible (as in just soft enough to allow legs to move in a forward direction, breathing, little things like that) to as solid as a medicine ball. Bad enough going stiff like someone poked a stick up my arse every ten steps or so, waddling along with a sort of rocking motion due to hips suddenly freezing up, whilst trying to plough on home 'in case', without also involuntarily bursting in to song. My two eldest, like Pavlov's dog, learned that me humming that tune to myself with a glazed look on my face meant they had better hurry up and save the fratricide for later.
To cut a long story short, or not, THIS is my current theme tune. So my subconscious has no sense of style, so what. It says it all and it's funky and it cheers me up.
P.S. Heres the official website if you too have secret fond memories of the shenanigans at Port Niranda