I’m thinking of taking out an injunction against Pascal Obispo, preventing him from coming within 100 metres of me. Don’t be fooled by his boyish charm: everywhere I go, the French singer seems to go too.
I need eyes in the back of my head every time I nip into Intermarché for my groceries or enjoy some fine dining in a cosy restaurant.
I’ve never had a stalker before.
I’ve not actually seen him, mind, but it’s only a matter of time. His haunts are all the same as mine.
He was born in Bergerac, the town where I spend as much time as I can each year, and he moved to Rennes as a teenager, just as I did. Plus, he gives over quite a lot of his time to charity, particularly supporting work for Aids charities. I bought a red ribbon from the Terrence Higgins Trust last December for World Aids Day.
You see? The parallels are, ahem, endless.
I might not have noticed him if it weren’t for the hit D’un Avé Maria last year. I heard it on a compilation CD I bought. Every time I’m in France, I always buy the latest Now That’s What I Call Musique to listen to in the car. I use them to help keep my language up, singing along to them during my daily commute.
His vocals really stood out – so much so that I bought his greatest hits CD when I was in Bergerac last month, so that I could investigate his back catalogue.
He’s been a chart regular since 1992, when Plus Que Tout au Monde became a hit. He also writes for a number of other artists I like, including Patricia Kaas, Nolwenn Leroy, Natasha St-Pier and Hélène Ségara.
In fact, for many years, without knowing it, I have been buying songs written by him. Maybe he’s not the stalker after all…