My dear friend Barnaby asked me to write a little entry on this blog about three months ago, I think. So here I am, finally….. I actually wrote the material for this months ago, but I’m very lazy and would make a terrible office worker.
Whilst planning this short expose, my first thoughts were which story to tell first. What can I say about the great Barn? He’s very punctual. What’s that? Not enough for you? OK, I’ll carry on. He said any old shit will do, but I thought I’d go one better and write some new shit.
I suppose I’d better introduce myself. The picture (above) of me topless is merely how I like to greet strangers. I didn’t say I had a lot of friends. Like the host of this blog, I also claim to be a trombone player. We have sat in many an orchestra pit together.
Note that I say “sat” and not played. Out of all the other people that I’ve worked with, I am least productive when sat next to sweet Barnaby. Some of the filth that comes out of his mouth would make even the most seasoned pornstar blush.
Perhaps Barn is a primeval man in a civilised body;maybe one day, someone will make a time machine and he can go back to a period in time that will allow him to act out his fantasies.
Should I mention the one with the donkey, triplet midgets with Austrian accents and industrial sized forceps? Oops.
I don’t know what distracts me the most – the constant innuendo or the persistent dropping of mutes and mouthpieces during quiet sections of the show.
Anyway, in a recent exchange of texts, Barn suggested I mention his doodle-tonguing. Now, I hear you say, what is doodle-tonguing? He doesn’t know either. But as I said at the start, he is very punctual. Maybe I should’ve left it there.
[The editor: Goodness, harsh talk indeed. But I simply can’t abide this libellous rumour. Hand on heart, I can in all honesty say, that I’ve never dropped a mouthpiece during a show. Well, certainly not in a quiet bit.]