Reminds me of an on-air joke by Graham Kerr ("The Galloping Gourmet") about a wounded Vincent Van Gogh arriving at the doctor's office, and the doctor asking in an English accent, "What's this 'ere?" As usual, you had to be there. (Kerr is still living at 90, by the way.)
Let me cram in one more of his jokes, about a prim mother taking her innocent daughter someplace in a taxi. They happen to drive past some garish Parisian prostitutes and the daughter exclaims, "Mummy, who are those women?" The mother attempts haltingly to concoct a parlor-room answer, but to such pitiful effect that the impatient cabdriver bursts out with, "Zey are Scarlet Women!" There is a shocked silence, and the daughter sits back with an "oh." And then, "Mummy, what are Scarlet Women?" The mother, fuming, with venom in her voice, says, "My dear, they are mothers...of cabdrivers."
Reminds me of an on-air joke by Graham Kerr ("The Galloping Gourmet") about a wounded Vincent Van Gogh arriving at the doctor's office, and the doctor asking in an English accent, "What's this 'ere?" As usual, you had to be there. (Kerr is still living at 90, by the way.)
Let me cram in one more of his jokes, about a prim mother taking her innocent daughter someplace in a taxi. They happen to drive past some garish Parisian prostitutes and the daughter exclaims, "Mummy, who are those women?" The mother attempts haltingly to concoct a parlor-room answer, but to such pitiful effect that the impatient cabdriver bursts out with, "Zey are Scarlet Women!" There is a shocked silence, and the daughter sits back with an "oh." And then, "Mummy, what are Scarlet Women?" The mother, fuming, with venom in her voice, says, "My dear, they are mothers...of cabdrivers."