[Slipping into Lancashire dialect] Well, I’ll go to our house! I could have sworn it’s “ukelele” with an “e.” [Pulls down Oxford English Dictionary] Nothing at all between “ukase” and “Ukrainian” … No, wait a minute, it’s here in the Supplement: “ukulele, also eukaleli, ukalele, ukelele.” Ha! But just to appease you wild colonial boys, I’ll check with Webster’s Third: “ukulele also ukelele …” Ha! again.
Be all that as it may, I have awakened both the uke-(Ha!)-lele and the George Formby communities. From the first:
Derb — I’m sure that by now you have been inundated with clips of Jake Shimabukuro. [Me: We-e-ell …] I met him once at a music festival. Very nice guy. I suppose it is hard to develop a big ego as a famous uke player. He gave a very good workshop. One of the musicians who had to follow him played uke as well (though he was more of a blues guitar player). He started his workshop with: “I used to think of myself as a ukulele player. Now I think of myself as a ukulele owner.”
Then a blast from the Formbians/-ists/-asts/-oids:
[Quoting me] “… otherwise deeply forgettable movies.” WHAT!!?!?! How can you SAY that, if you’ve seen No Limit?? The old bikes, the historic TT footage, the tremendous character acting …Did I mention THE HISTORIC TT FOOTAGE?
I am sorry. Having recently dissed Rush, I have over-fulfilled my quota of tick-off-readers pieces for this year. I shall be meek, bland, and conformist for a while. The last thing I need is a bus full of George Formby impersonators, like the Lucies in Rat Race parked in my driveway screeching “OOOOH MOTHER!”
Scrutinizing some of George’s lyrics there reminds me that the 1930s were the great age of the double entendre. Would’ve been fun to see George and Mae West in the same room together.