The other night I felt like Manuel Noriega, only trapped by circus freaks in a clown car.

It being 8:30 at night and cold, it failed to occur to me that the incessant cheesey beep tones were echoing around the neighbourhood out of an ice-cream truck.

I don't recall what they pumped at Noriega, but I hope it was something delicious like Cher or Menudo.