On The Fiddle

Our Muriel - my good lady wife - is learning to play the fiddle.

It's driving me round the bloody bend. She sounds like somebody draggin' a fridge down t' street. It's horrible, it is.

I've tried to be kind about it. After all, I don't want to hurt her feelings. I said to her, "Muriel, darling, please will you shut up with that terrible bloody racket."

She said, "But I need to practice."

I said, " You're telling me!"

I said, "You sound like a giant cat on heat. There's a dozen ginger toms queuing up in the yard to pee on the back door."

Do you know anybody who could give her violin lessons? At their house, though - not at mine. She sounds like a cinder trapped under a door. Eeeeeaaaaawwwwww!

Horrible.