How disconcerting to discover that Bob Dylan's neighbours are complaining about the smell from a portable lavatory on the singer's Malibu property.
But for many the disconcerting element of this tale will not be the supposedly noxious loo but Dylan's "ocean-view" estate? Surely a log cabin in Montana or a shack in Mississippi would be more fitting. Or perhaps a tour bus with a few million miles on the clock. In fact, the whole idea of the roaming troubadour having neighbours at all is a little hard to process. Mysterious musical geniuses are not supposed to be imagined popping next door to borrow a cup of sugar.
But, apparently, even those radicals who have always chafed at the idea of settling down, have to plant roots in the end. Property, it seems, is not theft, but inevitable.
At least Dylan and his neighbours can agree on one thing: "You don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows."
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