There’s a new ice cream man in our neighbourhood. He has the same style of truck and presumably sells the same sort of soft ice cream as Mr. Marigoudakis, our resident ice cream man, but this interloper will never be successful. Not only because he is infringing on our guy’s turf, but because he plays the creepiest music. Mr. M’s tune is upbeat and happy, but this new one is slow and played in a minor key. Picture an ice cream cone dangling by its neck and sad, nihilistic German children forced to eat it and you get the idea.