Opera.
No, not that wonderfully pointless web browser.
Opera, as an art form is an acquired taste, like Marmite. When given the choice of going to the Opera or chewing your own feet off before pouring honey all over yourself and unleashing the legion of man-eating ants to finish the job off, you can pretty guess which one they go for.
Which explains why you only ask people to go, whom you don’t like.
You see, the whole thing about it, is that when it’s mentioned, you instantly have thoughts of heavily obese people bellowing out or “singing” words in some nasty foreign language, about someone dying or eating a pie, who knows, it’s in a foreign language. The high notes are hit so often, that the glass factory twenty miles away self destructs.
Not so long ago, I was asked if I wanted to go to see a production in the center of town and use it as an excuse to dress up like a homeless person.
Now, this was as the result of asking countless people it seems, all of whom would prefer the aforementioned ant fate except for myself. Personally, if you’re going to laugh and berate something, you have to at least experience it once. Except for things like Bungee Jumping or jumping out of a plane. Remarkably, it’s very easy to laugh at those things while on the ground drinking a bambochino or whatever new drink Starbucks has invented in the last 60 seconds.
Forget about the old Pope coming to Britain, our lovely little third world country, and telling us we shouldn’t listen to Richard Dawkins as he’s a very naughty man, there is some more frankly startling news which will granted, only concern 3 people, but as I’m one of them, and this is my corner of cyberspace, I bloody well will type away in some clanky fury.
