A Touch Of Xanadu On The Quai Gustave-Ador

We were sitting at a lakeside bar on Sunday afternoon, Methodist Jim, the Property Magnate & myself, watching le toute Geneve pass by when our reveries were disturbed by a shocking apparition. Roller-skating by was a one-man style disaster who had clearly never got over coming third from last in the Radio Geneva Xanadu contest in 1981. He was not young and not slim, but he sported a greying coup sauvage and a leopardskin leotard. Sun-glasses stolen from the corpse of Roy Orbison. Unfeasibly large headphones. He executed a series of alarming manoeuvres in front of us and headed north along the quai. I couldn't be certain, but from the rhythm of his twirls and movement of his arms he was probably dancing to something like Night Fever.
Note to Genevan readers: if you see this man, do not attempt to approach him. Call the style police. This is a job for professionals.