Though I tend to have headaches on days that end in “Y” (working on it) I was struck with actual phyiscal pain this afternoon while listening to my NPR/music station on the drive to lunch.
It might just be a proto punchline by most people’s standards, but … it’s difficult to tell.
The nebulous joke I have around it centers on a sound tech running out of music an hour or two before the curtain goes up opening night on a production of The Mikado - either the orchestra announcing they aren’t contracted for pre-show music or the collected ovetures tape has busted …
And when asked, another sound tech volunteers a tape from her collection “I have a little Liszt …”
What’s worse than being struck by that phrase is the inability to succintly wedge it into a useable joke (obviously limited to an audience who know who knows a few 19th century composers …)
Slightly off topic, but once, many moons ago we were at an historical re-creation park (Old Sydney Town for those that know of it), and my mother bought a “Ye Olde Style Signe” that read:
Gone Chopin.
Bach in a minuet.
Offenbach sooner.
She bought it for one of her friends who was a church organist.
