The talkative geezer was on duty yesterday at the historic building. Yes, he talks. Continuously. It's one sentence that goes on from the time he arrives till the time he leaves. People go outside to get away from it and he creeps up on them to continue the monologue. He was at the staff party and carried on true to form. Had everyone talking about politics. I took myself to the next room to try and calm down but couldn't. That's why I played carols. It wasn't because I wanted to. I was already too tired, but it was my way of blocking him out. A couple of people did pass comments, but he was too engaged by the sound of his own voice to hear them.
When I got to the pub some smug bastard was holding court. I started the evening by belting out 'My Old Man Said Follow The Van', at which point he engaged me in unwanted conversation. "I'm classically trained" said he, so I tried to look impressed and asked him to play something. Needless to say he declined. Then I piled it on with a trowel. "I'm professionally trained too. Self-taught until the age of 38, graduated with a first and then graduated from one of the most internationally-respected of our musical establishments. By the way I'm a harpsichordist". He wanted the moonlight soddin sonata, so I gave him the first two movements, and told him off for interrupting me at the end of the first movement (the first two movements are performed consecutively without a break). I did feel pleased with myself. Very few people are in a position where they can look down on either my intellect or my performance abilities. I accepted the pint he subsequently bought me, and spent the rest of the evening scowling at him. Later on he tried to demonstrate his superior knowledge of opera, on which subject I shot him down just as easily and effectively.
The emptiest vessels don't just make the most noise. They are also cunts.
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