(Theme music)
(Applause)
Well, hello, hello, hello, hello, hello,
and welcome to QI, the show that puts a song in your heart,
a tune on your lips and a hum in your pyjamas.
Joining me for tonight's special music edition
are Sean Lock, Mark Gatiss, Linda Smith and Alan Davies.
So, let's tune up, ladies and gentlemen, please.
See how you're sounding. Sean goes...
(# Beethoven - Fifth Symphony)
Mark goes... (# Handel - Water Music)
Linda goes... (# Vivaldi - Spring)
And Alan goes... (# Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star)
Well done. Very good. Excellent.
First question this evening is, what kind of music
do snakes like the best? What do they find most charming?
(# Handel - Water Music)
- Mark? - Kraftwerk.
Really vicious German electro-pop.
Imagine those fakirs playing it...
- Those whats? Excuse me? - Fakirs. - Oh, yes, right, fair enough.
You're quite right. They are. All of them. Um, and...
(Cymbals crash) At ease, thank you.
Thank you, sound department.
When you say they like it,
it's not like they like it, they go out,
they buy it, they put posters up inside their baskets.
No, right, I see. When you say like...
(Imitates snake-charming music)
Yeah, Kraftwerk.
Just a second.
Good heavens! It works.
Oh, the hood right back, ready to pounce.
Um...
- I'm so sorry. - X-rated Ain't Half Hot Mum, that.
It was, rather.
The oddity is, actually,
that snakes, uh, don't respond to the music at all.
- They don't. They can't. - It's simply the sight of it.
- They just like the sight of it. - Yeah, 'cause if you do it without...
- They don't respond to music. - You're quite right.
- You could be doing that on anything? - Yeah.
Yeah. Or just making no noise at all,
and it would still sway backwards and forwards and look mesmerised.
They don't have ears.
You're sort of right. Until recently that was exactly what was thought,
'cause they don't appear to. In fact, when you go inside -
they've now discovered - they do have otic nerves and a whole system,
which responds electrically to sound.
Is that snake alive or is it a model one?
I think it's actually a dinner. It's a snake in a basket.
I think it's just come back from holiday in Spain
and bought one of those donkeys, those straw donkeys.
When I was a kid, there was a rattlesnake on TV, every week.
(Laughs)
Every week, in something, there was always a rattlesnake.
And nowadays, there's never a rattlesnake on TV.
It was like a big thing in the '70s.
You didn't even see one. You just heard one.
It was the most terrifying noise of my childhood.
- And I grew up in Loughton. - Yeah.
Good. Well, there you are. That's the point. Snakes and hearing.
Now, onto a nursery rhyme.
The nursery rhyme says,
'Hey diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle.'
But what have cats got to do with violins?
Catgut? (Alarm sounds)
Oh, dear. Oh, dear, oh, dear. No.
- Not that then? - Not that! No.
The fact is, catgut has never gone into the making of violins.
It was a myth put about by the...
- By dogs. - ..string-makers.
It was considered very unlucky to kill a cat in medieval times.
They're made out of sheep gut,
- and the people of... - Sheep really get it all.
Don't they just?
They've got low self-esteem, I think.
- They allow themselves to be bullied. - They do allow themselves to be.
In Australia, they discovered that sheep possess morphic knowledge.
They found that sheep managed to get across a cattle grid
by lying on their backs,
holding their legs up, and rolling across them.
'Cause they were like a little furry ball.
And sheep were doing it almost at the same time...
..1,000 miles away, other side of Australia.
But that's it, people don't know.
That's why it's called morphic resonance or morphic knowledge.
It started with tits.
Blue tits seemed to discover, in different parts of Britain,
to peck open the silver top of a milk bottle,
within a week of each other in Scotland and in England,
without any tit having done it before.
And they were too far away from each other to have communicated.
And this theory arose of what's called,
as Sean said, morphic resonance.
- Er, cats and violins. - Oh, yes.
The people who had the monopoly as it were, put it about
that it was made of catgut,
knowing that their rivals would never dare kill cats,
and they wanted to, kind of, keep it secret.
The same families have run violin string-making for over 600 years.
But now, of course, there's nylon and steel added,
though people still say the old sheep gut is still the best.
I thought it was something to do with the cat's penis.
Did you?
Isn't it a strange shape, like a violin, or something like that?
- Is it really strange? - That would...
What would be the shape of the female's orifice?
A violin case.
Isn't it? Haven't they got a strange shape?
That's why they screech so loudly when they're...
Cats' penises are barbed and have a bone in them.
So yes, they are an unusual shape, unless...
- Yeah, they've got a bone. That was it. - Yep.
Cats could choke on small bones.
So, you wouldn't want to fiddle with them.
That's the connection with the violin.
Nice.
Now. We're still musical, as we hope to be all evening.
Now, what kind of music do spiders like?
- Well, I reckon... - Yeah, go on.
..they've got eight legs - they'd appreciate a one-man band.
You know, chicka-chicka-ching,
dum-dum, brrp-brrp-da-drrp, doof-doof.
You know, they'd appreciate that all-round entertainer.
(# Handel - Water Music)
- Et cetera. - Er, Kylie Minogue.
- Why's that? - Spinning Around.
Spinning Around. Very good.
You could have said, Andrew Lloyd Webber, I suppose.
Actually, on a similar note, might it be Cliff Richards?
- Because isn't his real name... - Richards?
- Cliff Richard, rather - beg your pardon. - Is? - Webb.
- It is, his real name's Webb. - Marti Webb.
Marti Webb. It's all just, isn't it?
But I don't think spiders are that into puns.
I think they like flies, stuff like that, cheese.
I'll tell you an interesting fact about spiders.
The Huntsman spider -
well, a fact everyone knows, doesn't actually build a web -
- is the only spider with lungs. - Ooh, I like that.
So, you can get it a birthday cake with a candle on.
What a sweet thing to think of. What a nice way of thinking.
What do spiders do to flies?
They wrap them up in web, like in Lord Of The Rings.
- Yeah, and? - Like silk.
And then take them off, till they've softened up a bit and then eat them.
That's the odd thing, 'cause they don't eat them - they drink them.
- They drink them and dissolve them. - They squirt them with that acid
that dissolves them into a sort of liquid.
Flies, when they land on your food, they immediately vomit on it.
And then they tread about on it, like that,
get it all mushy, and then they digest that.
- That's quite rude, isn't it? - It is.
And they listen with their eight feet.
They can hear you coming.
- They listen with their feet? - They have a penis on their head.
It's on the end of a little feeler.
That's where their mating organ is, the males.
- They're just a mess, aren't they? - Exactly.
They're all dickheads, really.
And they have eight eyes, as well, most of them.
- Spiders have eight eyes and eight legs? - Yes.
The answer to this question is it seems to be classical music,
'cause they did an experiment
- and they found that... - Who are they?
University of Ohio, in this instance, is they. Or are they.
The University of (Bleep) All-Else-Better-To-Do.
Ah, well, no.
Formerly the Polytechnic of (Bleep) All-Else-To-Do.
Domestic spiders were subjected to Bach, techno -
which I believe is some kind of modern music -
and rap.
For techno and rap, they built their webs
as far away from the speakers as possible.
For classical music, closer to.
Someone very close to me told me about a music called tesco.
- Do you know about that? - BOTH: No.
It's a blend of disco and techno.
Rather sweet, as it's known as tesco.
And they have tesco evenings in certain nightclubs.
- Really? - Type of modern young person's dance music,
like two-step UK garage for example, which is my particular favourite.
These will be nightclubs right on the edge of town.
Plenty of parking.
Another bizarre experiment on spiders -
and this, I think, will fascinate you - was conducted by NASA.
Really extraordinary experiment, in 1995,
to see how spiders reacted to drugs.
So, behind you are some of the results.
We have two webs - one produced on LSD, and one produced on caffeine.
You have to match the drug to the web.
I bet the worse one is caffeine. On the right there.
That's what you reckon, yeah?
The other one looks like a bullet through glass on Callan.
You're absolutely right.
The extraordinary thing is that when they give them LSD,
they make even more geometrically perfect webs
than they do in nature. It's absolutely perfect.
- And they see spiders everywhere. - Well, they'd see humans, probably.
Ooh, it's a bad trip, I saw humans floating in front of my eyes.
And that jangled mess on the right is caffeine,
the world's most popular drug.
80% of all human beings take caffeine at least once a day.
There's an exhibition at the British Museum at the moment
and it's about healthy living, or life,
and the things we do to ourselves,
- and there's an exhibit with 14,000 pills in it... - Ah.
..all sewn into a big mesh
to represent the pills that an average First World person
takes in their life.
That would last my nan about a week.
Not content with that, we kind of push our gear on spiders
for some extraordinary reason.
You try it. We don't want coffee. Try it, have it.
Want to see what you do. Want to see what you do.
Oh! Ah, look, you're weird. Thanks.
There'd be a lot of loud-laughing flies if they saw that.
Ooh, I just fly straight through it. It's great.
We have another one, and you have to guess the drug. Let's have a look.
There we are. What would that be as a result of?
Lager.
- Any other thoughts? - Marijuana.
Marijuana is the right answer. (American accent) Mary Jane.
Or cannabis, or whatever else you'd like to call it.
'Cause they couldn't be arsed to finish it.
Exactly. Good.
Now, listen to this piece of music by The Mamas and The Papas.
# Ba-da, ba-da-da-da
# Monday, Monday
- # So good to me - # Ba-da-da
# Ba-da, ba-da-da-da
# Monday morning. #
Lovely. That, as I say, is the sound of
Monday Monday by The Mamas and the Papas.
But what colour would you say Monday is?
(# Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star)
- Yes. - Blue.
- Blue. Because of...why? Because...? - Just makes me think of blue.
Well, that's right.
Most people, thinking of days of the week,
assign a colour to them. Not assign one...
Wednesday is kind of green, Thursday is brown, Friday is black.
Ah, you see, Friday dark blue to me,
and Thursday is sort of orange, reddy.
- Tuesday is, maybe, yellow. - Yellow. I have a yellow Tuesday.
Saturday's red. Sunday's sort of bluey purple.
Monday's white to me, for some reason. There you are.
Have you done a spider experiment at NASA, you two?
Do you not have any sense of colour...?
No, Monday, I think of a period of time
which has to be endured until Tuesday comes along.
Yes, don't expect a poet laureateship
to be handed to you on a plate.
It's a little bit literal.
If Monday makes you think of blue, does blue make you think of Monday?
- It makes me think of mould. - Yeah.
It's not thought, either. That's to say, it's not thought
in the sense of rational analysis.
It's as if you see the colour in your head.
Well, we'll move onto this because, uh,
I'll play you a chord of music, like so.
(# Piano chord)
Which some of you with perfect pitch might know was D major.
- D, F-sharp, A triad. - Lime green, I had there.
You had lime green? Anybody else have a colour?
- No. - No?
Tell you what I heard. I heard a sound.
- I just thought. I just sat here. - Yes, I know. We do. Most people do.
Anyone hear a sound?
Anyone? Or just me? Please, God, not again!
I just thought of, also, a sound man going, 'Yes!'
It's true, 'cause he really did it well. Let's try it again.
(# Piano chord) He's good, isn't he?
He's going, 'Oh-uh-oh.' (# Piano chord)
(# Piano chords) He's very good, that sound man.
He's very good. Round of applause. (Laughs)
- If I do it, will he do it for me? - Go on, see.
(# Piano chord) Yes, with one finger, as well.
(# Piano chord)
- Will he do it for me? - Move up the scale.
(# Piano chord) (Laughs) Eh!
No, the fact is there is this condition known as synaesthesia,
which is quite common, in which people genuinely see a colour
when they hear sound.
Rimsky-Korsakov, for example, saw that D major chord. Boing!
(# Piano chord) Ah-ha!
There's Rimsky-Korsakov. He saw it as a glorious sunny yellow.
Liszt would say to orchestras, and completely baffle them,
'No, no, no, please, gentlemen - bluer, bluer.'
Julian Asher, who is a neuroscientist,
who also has synaesthesia,
tried to explain it - 'cause he had it as a child -
and he used to go to concerts with his parents,
and he always used to assume that the lights went down before the concert
so you could see the colours better as they came off the orchestra.
He just always assumed that 'cause he assumed, as you would,
that everybody had the same experience -
that when they heard music, they saw colours,
right in front of them, for real.
And Rimsky-Korsakov wrote down that he saw, and so, going up from F,
we have E major. (# Piano chord)
And that for him was bright blue. And F major.
(# Piano chord) - Red. - Uh, bright green for him.
But this is interesting. E-flat major.
(# Piano chord)
- Magnolia. - Miserable grey for him.
Well, isn't that interesting? 'Cause it's very, very common indeed,
E-flat major, for singers. It's their most common chord.
It's quite odd, that photograph.
It's not like he's posed for it - not full-on.
It's like he's coming out of somewhere,
and someone's taken a sort of Victorian paparazzi snap of him.
It's probably CT camera, or a Victorian CT camera,
which was a bloke with a big clunk...moving along the street.
Now, in 1988, lady and gentlemen.
In 1988, Warner Communications as then was,
paid John F. Sengstack $28 million for the rights to a single song.
I just want to know what it was.
(# Vivaldi - Spring) 1988. Yes?
A bit pricey.
(Laughs) It was. It was.
They reckon they'll do well out of it.
- National anthem? - It was not the national anthem. Not copyright.
(# Handel - Water Music) Yes.
Was it the theme to Button Moon?
(Laughs) Lovely idea. It wasn't that.
- Hokey Cokey? - No.- - Happy Birthday?
Ah, thank you very much, Mark Gatiss.
It was indeed Happy Birthday To You,
which was composed in 1924 by a couple of old biddies.
$28 million?
$28 million. They make about $2 million a year.
What did the people sing in 1923, for goodness sake?
They brought the cake out, everyone just stood about
in a slightly awkward silence?
It's infinitely preferable than having that bloody song sung at you.
You're older! You're older! You're older!
It was written by these two, and then Irving Berlin included it,
with the words Happy Birthday To You, which they didn't write -
nobody knows who did write those.
He included it in a 1933 musical, so they sued, and won,
and retained the copyright.
And in theory, if you sing it in a restaurant,
you owe Warner Brothers money,
because it's counted as a public place.
You'd have to be very honest to phone them up and go,
'Er, it was my birthday last night, how much do I owe you?
And I hummed a few bars of Let It Be, as well.'
Happy Birthday was the first song to be sung in space,
by the Apollo 9 crew.
Do you know what the original song was written as - the lyrics?
They weren't Happy Birthday To You.
It was a death row song.
# You won't be alive tomorrow
Yeah.
# Don't bother making your bed. #
- No. - A really, really good idea for Ainsley Harriott
would be Ainsley's Death Row Dinners.
Don't you think? 'Cause he's so jolly.
Originally, it was written as a teachers' song
to sing to their class.
Good Morning To All, it was called.
Then it became Good Morning To You, and then Happy Birthday To You.
That's its history. Anyway.
What was the most disastrous composition
of the man who gave the world The Wombling Song,
Remembering You're A Womble, Wombling Free,
- Wombling In The Rain... - Mike Batt.
(# Handel - Water Music) ..Non-Stop Wombling Summer Party,
whose name, as you rightly say, is Mike Batt.
- All of them. - Yes.
But one of them was particularly and rather amazingly disastrous.
(# Vivaldi - Spring)
- Not one of those I've mentioned. - Was it The Wombling (bleep) Party?
It was actually a financial disaster.
- # Free Myra Hindley. # - Ooh, hang on.
(# Handel - Water Music)
Free Myra Hindley?!
It didn't take long.
# Free Myra Hindley. # Kapow!
No, he didn't go that far. No, it was on an album.
He had a track which lasted a minute, and it was complete silence.
- Ah, yes. - It was called A Minute's Silence.
And he was sued by... who would sue him?
- Cage. John Cage. - John Cage. - John Cage, exactly.
Author of 4'33", the famous 1952 composition of complete silence.
What a load of rubbish.
But there are two reasons why we shouldn't feel sorry for Mike Batt.
One is, he actually put One Minute's Silence (Batt/Cage),
so, uh-huh... And the second reason is,
he wrote the campaign song for William Hague's 97 campaign,
so whatever shit is flung at him, frankly...
I heard one of the best ever links done on radio
was done by Dale Winton on his Radio 2 show.
He played Watership D...you know, Bright Eyes, which Mike Batt wrote.
- You know, # Bright eyes... # - Yes, indeed.
And he got to the end of it, and he goes,
'Listen to that,' he said.
'A song about a rabbit, written by a Batt.'
- And I thought, that's ghastly. - Dale...well, he is the guv'nor.
He's the guv'nor, of course.
I saw The Wombles.
- Live? - They were actually men dressed as Wombles,
So they were enormous.
It was one of the most frightening things of my entire childhood.
- Freak you out? - They towered over children
who'd come to see little cute Wombles who gathered litter
and lived in a burrow.
Loomed over them, like that.
Was it Christmas?
All the dwarves are booked up round that time.
Two actor friends of mine were in this pantomime version
of The Wind In The Willows.
One was the badger and one was Toad.
And they didn't really get on. They were getting on quite badly.
So obviously, there's quite a long section of the show
where Badger is nagging Toad, you know, to change his ways.
And one day, my friend who was the toad, just got really, really drunk
and he turned up for the afternoon show,
and Badger started telling him off,
saying, 'You've got to mend your ways.'
And he just said, 'You (bleep) off you stripey bastard!'
Are the children still in therapy?
Anyway, here's an interesting question, as well.
What was unique about Good Friday, 1930, that urgently required
ten minutes of light piano music?
Did Jesus come back, change His mind, and they had to fill in?
No...it was a news program, but instead of news,
they played ten minutes' light music. Why would that be?
'Cause something had happened?
- Quite the opposite. - Nothing had happened? - Nothing had happened.
'Oh, no news today.'
An announcer came on and said, 'Ladies and gentlemen,
there is no news tonight, so here is some music.'
Absolutely true. Absolutely true.
- There was no news? - Nothing happening...
Well, in fact, we've tried to check what did happen,
and aside from football matches,
in India, there was the start of what was called the Chittagong Rebellion.
700 youths attacked the telegraph office,
disconnected all communications in the city of Chittagong,
but that didn't happen until ten o'clock.
It was too late for the news in London.
So, there was no news, it seems.
They probably didn't have traffic reports.
They wouldn't have had traffic reports.
'Here we go live to the camera at Hanger Lane...
..and there's a bloke on a bike.'
'Lorks, I wouldn't give you much chance of getting home
before six o'clock, and that's a fact.'
'You'd better call up your maid and butler,
and tell them to put something in the oven.'
But that's ridic... I mean, local papers
have to deal with no news every week.
They still write the paper every week.
My favourite ever... When I used to live in Sheffield -
the Sheffield Star - my favourite ever headline.
'Worksop Man Dies of Natural Causes.'
Fantastic! Oh, that's bliss.
But what about the story of the giant microphones invading the BBC?
He's terrified.
They were hushing that one up.
The Incredible Shrinking Announcer.
Now, prepare to lose composure,
because it's General Ignorance, so fingers on buzzers. What is this?
(# Beethoven - Fifth Symphony) Tap music?
- Tap music? Yeah, very close. - Looks like taps, doesn't it?
Yes, it does.
By a weird accident, you're right,
- in as much as it's a dance notation. - Ah.
It's known as the Benesh Movement Notation,
which was invented in the 1950s by a Mr Benesh,
who was an accountant and very talented artist and musician.
His wife was a ballet dancer,
and it shows the choreography of a particular dance.
Can you work out what it is?
It sort of represents...
- Is that legs then? - Oh, bodies changing.
(# Handel - Water Music) - Yes? - The Hokey Cokey?
It is the Hokey Cokey! Well done.
And there are legs going in and out. Exactly.
There was an American version of the dance...
A man called Larry LaPrise, and he died in 1996.
What happened at his funeral?
- Oh, they couldn't get him in the coffin. - Why's that?
They put the left leg in...
- ..then the trouble started. - Right, fair enough. Exactly.
Mr Fry, can I do my song? Mr Fry?
Bring back variety. (Audience laugh)
Now, next question.
What was the first invention to break the sound barrier?
Mae West's vibrator.
(Makes buzzing noise)
How fast does a bullet go? (Makes buzzing noise)
I need an answer, not a question. (Makes buzzing noise)
(# Handel - Water Music)
(Makes buzzing noise) More steam!
They've got coal. They're shovelling it in.
(Makes vibrating sound)
Counting to three. Um, so...
She had a giant rubber band, six foot wide,
with ten men twisting it round.
Dear. Dear me.
Cannonball, musket fire, catapults?
(Alarm sounds) Whoa, hello.
No, not a cannonball.
They spelt it wrong, they spelt it wrong! Points to me.
- No, they haven't. - You'd prefer there Ns, would you?
- Two Ns in cannon, isn't there? - Three, I would have thought.
Yeah, well, one on the end, but in the middle.
In the middle, two, yes.
Otherwise it's a ball of religious person.
Yeah, exactly.
We thought it was Bobby and Tommy, you know.
MARK: Hey! (In Northern accent) Hey!
You're looking at me! He's looking at me!
Stop looking!
Alistair McGowan, watch out!
- Anyway... - Not a cannonball then?
No, not a cannonball. It's 7,000 years old - the earliest we've found.
In China, it was invented.
A very common thing in all cultures, though.
- Harrison Ford uses it extensively. - Ooh.
(# Handel - Water Music) - Alan: Whip? - Firework?
Not a firework. (Makes whipping sound)
- A whip is the right answer. - MARK: What?!
A whip. The sound of a whip cracking is not leather hitting leather -
it is a sonic boom, a mini sonic boom.
(Whistling) It's where it makes a loop,
and as it tapers towards the end, it gets faster and faster
till it gets up to 724mph.
- Wowser. - We only discovered this -
humans only discovered it -
When we were able to use high-speed cameras to see it all slowed down,
and see that it wasn't hitting itself,
and that wasn't the noise at all. It was actually...
- But Professor, that's fantastic! - Isn't it?!
Isn't it? It's great news.
Well, on the subject of sounds,
when you listen to the waves in a seashell,
what are you actually hearing?
(# Vivaldi - Spring) Yes?
Nine times out of ten, Norah Jones.
- Norah Jones. - What do you mean?
- What's the sound you hear when you do that? - You're hearing the sea.
(Alarm sounds)
- Why would that be? - You're on the beach, aren't you?
No, you could be in Ashby-de-la-Zouch.
You'd still hear that same noise. (# Handel - Water Music)
I've never done it anywhere away from the seaside.
Ah, you must try it with a mug.
It's the pounding of your blood in your eardrums.
(Alarm sounds) Oh, dear.
No, not that, neither. No.
Who's that girl though, who's got that seashell on her ear?
Oh, she looks like she failed the Magnum advert.
They said, 'No, lick it, you silly bitch!'
They're awfully rude, aren't they? But I know what you mean.
You just get a rushing sound, like...what would that be?
- It's... - Air in your ear?
- Echoes? - Yeah, noise, airflow, resonating inside it.
It works with a mug or a cup.
Course, if you hold a shell-suit to your ear, you can hear Romford.
Very good.
There we are. Now, who wrote the tune for Alan's buzzer?
(# Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star)
Prince Edward.
Who's that? Oh, blimey, it's me.
Is that two of Anne Robinson's daughters?
You see now, how they got the idea for the Slinky, don't you?
I bet there's a clown somewhere, panicking, going 'Jesus Christ!'
It's about five minutes to showtime. He's going 'Aah!'
Why's it not so springy now?
You're not eating so many Cheesy Wotsits, are you?
Also, I'm looking a bit ginger there, aren't I?
- You certainly are. - He looks like the new Anne Robinson. Seen her?
- The new...? Oh, yes. - She's regenerated.
Beautiful new lady. It's extraordinary.
She looks like a Siamese cat walking into a storm.
What was the tune again? I've forgotten.
It was what we would call Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.
SLOWED DOWN: (# Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star)
Didn't do that last time.
- I bet it's German. - (German accent) Twinkle, Twinkle...
- (German accent) At five years old... - ..Little Star!
No. Mozart wrote an extraordinary series of variations on that tune
at the age of five. Very beautiful variations indeed.
Bloody Mozart. Special needs boy.
And now, let's get to the scores.
And it's rather a dissonant quartet, here. My goodness, me.
Well, look, we're going to have to do it in first to last.
Our winner, very tunefully, is Linda, with two massive and tuneful points.
Two. Two points. Yes! Two.
And Mark managed a perfectly respectful and harmonic minus four.
And Sean was not quite so on song with minus eight.
As usual, I'm sorry to say,
Alan managed an absolutely astounding, caterwauling mess
of a ruin of a sound, which was minus 13.
Congratulations.
That's all from QI for this week.
A big hand, please, for our singers, Sean, Mark, Linda and Alan.
And we leave you with this famous musical memento,
the observation of the conductor Sir Thomas Beecham to a lady cellist.
'Madame, you have between your legs an instrument capable
of giving pleasure to thousands, and all you can do is scratch it.'
Good night.
Closed Captions by CSI - David Hull