Wednesday, May 04, 2005

Banjo Idle Ferrari

Last week I was bored at my job and playing a game of "Name words that end in o" with my friend Stephanie over IM. The first couple days we were spewing out words one after the other. Then it started to dry up and we were down to a few a day - kazoo, embargo, and so on. Towards the end, when we thought we might have actually come up with all "ends in o" words in existence, one popped into my mind and I pulled up Stephanie's window and typed "FUCKING BANJO", swearing to add some punch. An hour or so later, having nothing to do, I decided to go for a walk. I thought "If the traffic lights lead me there, I will go to Chapters". They did. I normally head straight up to the 2nd floor, but I noticed the best sellers area towards the back on the ground floor, so I decided to go there for a change. I spotted a book by Eric Idle, who was always my favourite Monty Python member. It was a diary of his recent North American tour. I opened it to a page at random and started reading. A couple of pages in, he started on a tangent about a certain instrument, saying:
"That's the trouble with fucking banjo players. As a guitarist you're just invisible. You sit around for hours playing three chords so that their strangulated instruments can sound vaguely tuneful, and you might as well not be there. I once spent an evening with five of them - it's a nightmare for a guitarist. They always have one more fucking plaintive lament to play involving e minor, dead miners and a cat. Banjo players hate all other musicians. They can only tolerate other banjo players. What's the line you never hear at a recording studio? Will the banjo player please move his Ferrari."

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