Is it possible to share your life with someone whose record collection is incompatible with your own? Can People have terrible taste and still be worth knowing? Do songs about broken hearts and misery and lonliness mess up your life, if consumed in excess? For Rob Fleming, 35 years old, a pop addict, owner of a failing record shop and recently ‘singled’ (his girlfriend has just left him) these are the sort of questions that need an answer, and soon.
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