I was wandering round town yesterday and I came upon a little-old-man jazz band who were actually really good. I stood and listened to them for ages, until the Accordion Busker Who Can Only Play One Tune turned up and unpacked his accordion, proceding to play his one tune, without any swing at all, so it didn't mean a thing (jazz in-joke). It got me to thinking about my fruitless search for a song called the London Derriere, which I thought must be a bawdy old music-hall song, for a bagpiper friend. Eventually, I realised its real name was the Londonderry Air, and hoped nobody realised what a fool I was. It's the sort of thing that makes you blush with shame at the memory...
Christmas Joke, a long time a-comin':
What do you call a festive rodent?
Christmouse.
Urgh. Where's the Champagne?
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