(Which reminds me of probably the best joke I have ever made, but one which requires so much setting up that I will probably never be able to repeat it. I shall do my best here, however.
I was exchanging e-mails with a girlfriend whose brother was about to appear as the eponymous king in a production of Christopher Marlowe’s Edward II, in which his character would meet his doom when a red hot poker was inserted arsewise. We had previously argued about the merits of the musical Les Miserables (I hated it, she loved it) and I speculated that Edward II might also benefit from some uplifting tunes.
Would her brother’s production have any songs, I wondered. “Something like: ‘Can you hear the people singe, singeing the thongs of angry men.'”
She didn’t find it that funny, and I sensed that our relationship would not last.)