Hey, Groucho. Whatcha doing?
“Being manhandled. At least I think they’re men. I can’t tell with the haircuts.”
Those are men, Groucho. They’re a band named Queen.
“Well, that makes sense. They’ve been nothing but princes to me.”
They’ve treated you right?
“Better than my last wife. Or the two before her. Maybe I should marry one of them.”
You could do worse.
“I have. Last wife talked so much I got her drum lessons for the quiet.”
You don’t say.
“And dumb, too. She thought grass was green because it was jealous of trees.”
Hoo-boy.
“Now, what type of music do these boys play? You did say they were boys?”
They’re boys. They play rock music.
“Rock music? I bet they sound bolder every show.”
You still got it, Groucho.
Embarrassing confession: when I first looked at the photo, I was wondering why Elvis Costello looked so old when Freddie looked so young . . . .