It happens when you least expect it.
It was a little after 6 p.m., perusing items at Brookline Booksmith, passing time before Suzi and I went to see the NT Live production of “Present Laughter” — a raucous exercise in scenery-chewing starring Andrew Scott — when without fanfare, the first notes of my doom played from the speakers.
I had met my Whamageddon.
The sad irony of a game in which you “die” when you hear “Last Christmas” by Wham! (in other words, if you’re still in the game DON’T PLAY THE VIDEO ABOVE) is that it’s a really good song.
It’s not like it’s a Christmas song by Coldplay, which like most anything else of theirs, makes one long for the sweet release of death.
As it was, I was only alive because of two technicalities in the rules.
I’m pretty sure I heard “Last Christmas” a couple weeks ago, but it doesn’t count before Dec. 1, and neither do covers like the one on NBC’s entertaining-yet-interminable “Christmas in Rockefeller Center” broadcast.
Our man Dating Dad had a different problem. (The language doesn’t bother me, but if it does, be warned.)
Turns out, you need to beware a Whamssassin with nothing left to lose.
Our man decided to take it to the people. He’s a good follow, but I thought people were going to vote him out, even if sending the song to a friend is dirty pool. I didn’t vote, since I didn’t want the awesome responsibility of holding a man’s Whamageddon life in my hands.
In the end, the people came through for him.
But I’m sure he must know that any reprieve is temporary, that the end is coming …
… when he least expects it.
Ask not for whom the Wham! tolls. It tolls for thee.
Graphic of the rules (including the profanity that I didn’t know how to erase) from Twitter.