We are seated in the School Canteen, over-priced food at the ready.
"There are no good songs written in a major key" Breakfast Club Boy asserts biting into his apple as if to suggest that this will give his view more weight.
"What about songs that are in written in major and minor keys?" Arsenal Fan asks.
Breakfast Club Boy is prepared. "They just serve to make you grateful for the minor key when it happens".
Obviously, because I spend a good proportion of my life arguing with boys about music, I am unable to stay silent. Not least because Breakfast Club Boy has just written off 'Love Will Tear Us Apart', 'Good Riddance (To Bad Rubbish)' and - hear me shriek - 'Chasing Cars'. Indeed he most likely has written off a substantial amount of the music I actually like, and with his inclusion of the changing key thing, practically every song by The Beatles. Clearly he is very wrong indeed.
"But you're using the term 'good' which is pretty much worthless. What does 'good' mean?"
He looks directly at me and I wonder if his eyebrows are green too or if they are just reflecting his hair. It is not a question I would have thought I would ever have to ponder.
"It means I like it".
I had thought as much, in as much as it translates as music Corinne doesn't like.
"What you need to realise is - it's like if [Arsenal Fan] turned up tomorrow wearing incredibly stylish clothing. The clothing would no longer be stylish just because of the fact that [Arsenal Fan] was wearing them. And it's the same with you and music. You could have every record by Tom Waits and because of the fact that it would sit in your collection with The Killers it would be bland".
It is possibly the first time that my record collection has been specifically lampooned for containing The Killers. It is possibly not wise to point out the fact that it also contains this or this, or even this. And we'd better really, really not get on to this.
Charming Canadian turns to me. "We've got to get this out of our systems before the workshop".
There is at least some acknowledgement that actually insulting me during my own workshop might be against form.
I look to the three boys surrounding me. "I'm sitting in the bullying triangle, aren't I?".
There's a pause.
"It's actually a bullying diamond".
"Yes, the guy sitting behind you hates you too".