May I discuss with you good people (I pick the plural with some optimism)…music. This evening I have been subjected to hour upon hour of some raven haired warbler called Nick Cave, and yes, I admit that some of it is fairly acceptable if you squint, well, fold down your ear flaps and think of England, but not in the vast and unending quantities it has been torturing me with today. This is not the only offering I have been subjected to I must admit. There has also been a brief smattering of Lou Reed, The Chemical Brothers and strangely a bit of Val Doonican’s Delaney’s Donkey. Sigh.
Quite frankly I need a change of musical scene. The short human seems relatively obsessed by the Cave chap and the tall one is not that much better quite frankly. With a growing sense of unease I decided to peruse their musical collection to see what I was contending with. Well. Where to start? I may have mentioned before an unhealthy amount of Leonard Cohen listening in this strange house – enough to bring forth tears in the most cheerful of us – and quite honestly it did not improve. At all. The short human happened upon me idly flicking through her musical predilections and has now taken it upon herself to ‘educate me’ musically. She began by informing me of her dreadful (and I think irrational) phobia of musicals, although Calamity Jane is reasonably acceptable, apparently. Just.
So I sat, consumed with boredom, with folded paws and a closed mind as she began to wave her arms about with much enthusiasm – several hours I will never get back I regret to say.
Occasionally I do get to witness most amusing musical evenings which are really rather splendid entertainment. Generally these occur on a weekend evening. Just as they decide to go to bed they decide they need to listen to a bit of music first, for what purpose I am unaware. One tune is played and somehow spurs them on to listen to another. Then I am afraid the Laphroaig makes an appearance and then all hell lets loose. Both find themselves whirling about the room and caterwauling at the top of their voices. It really is quite unseemly.
The short human seems to favour either drawling, depressing dirges like the aforementioned Mr Cohen …or what she describes as a ‘good hard banging tune’ to which she flings herself about with embarrassing abandonment, pogoing about like a rabid kangaroo. Yes, I know.
“Jump around! Jump up, jump up and get down”.
They will then begin to discuss their plan to open their own bar, which quite frankly sounds like a cross between some disreputable palace of dubious morals and a gin bar. There would be top hats worn, crinolines and the occasional jaunty thigh high boot – and that is just the chaps.
The evening always ends the same way with the tall human displaying his unending talents with a rendition of Peter Sarstedt’s ‘Where do you go to my lovely?’ whilst he waltzes the diminutive loon around the sofa.
Thankfully bed time knocks at the door, is answered and I am thus saved from any more of this dreadful dreadful behaviour.
This is where I leave you dear reader…Oh..oh no…the Laphraoig is out. Save me…
2 thoughts on “Now Delaney had a donkey that everyone admired….”
Spindly am I to gather that you might like musicals! I know that you are famous now and I have tried to forget but I just can’t bear that you have to endure so much. BC has told me that she has a small collection by Mr Cave, she has even seen him but doesn’t remember much about it as someone had persuaded her to smoke some funny tobacco. Or was that when she saw Elvis Costello?
Please, please come over and we can watch Singin’ in the Rain together….try to make your diminutive human YouTube Donald O’Connor doing Make ‘em Laugh. The absolute epitome of cool and artistry. (Apart from ThePrologue to West Side Story). Indeed if I were to be incarnated in human form I do believe I would BE Donald O’Connor. Just notice the cut of his trousers.
Anyway, goodbye, I suppose I shan’t see you
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My dear dear gypsy boy, I really must reassure you that you are never far from my thoughts. I am as yet undecided as to musicals as the short one was very persuasive of the dangers of partaking in such an activity. I must also reassure you that I am by no means famous…it is all naturally in my small domed head…I do however rely on you my dearest GB to keep my paws on the ground should they ever elevate. It is now that I feel I need to open myself up for potential emotional peril. I did not exaggerate when I said you are never far from my thoughts…I was wondering, that is to say…oh I do find this awfully difficult. Perhaps…perhaps we could meet in a nice sedate coffee parlour and discuss musicals and…well…what I like to think of as our burgeoning dalliance. There! I have said it! I shall await with much trepidation and a smattering if hope….