There was one singer on the programme that had the most extravagant name
I ever witnessed.

If you read it off quick it sounded like the finish of the six-day
bicycle race at the Madison Square Garden.

Then if you looked at it sideways it seemed to be the report of a
skirmish between the Russians and the Japs.

I think that fellow just waded into the alphabet with a dip net and all
the letters he caught he kept.

I liked the plot of the Opera.

[Illustration]

She was a blonde lady with one of those _embonpoint_ faces which
must cost a good deal to keep in repair.

The hero was a young gentleman with a sweet expression and a forehead
which had moved into his hair when it was very young.

I don't know which was the villain, but I have my suspicions that it was
the usher who gave me a seat.

I was interpolated in between a fat man who spoke with an onion accent
and a narrow-headed man who whistled softly to himself all the evening
without taking 32 bars rest.

My enjoyment under these circumstances was delicious.