It is a little known fact, quite probably untrue, that all saxaphone players have the same level of appeal for the ladies. Not much. Rotten Ronny the Gippsland cad was one such, before his unfortunate demise. He was descended from a semi famous father, Ronnie senior, who made his name playing the Invisible Man in a silent movie, having passed the audition with flying colours by not turning up and saying nothing. Sent his agent to collect the dough whilst sunning himself on the Costa Del Backbeach at Portseadarling for most of the 1920's. Poor Rotten Ronny was left to languish as third sax in the house band of Mme Trixie La Belle's Academie de Danse back in Altona West. He played a mournful saxaphone, to little effect. But I digress.
Sometime ago, Ronny caught the eye of the notoriously promiscuous Hortense one night, whilst she was dancing wildly to a reggae version of Darktown Strutters Ball, or something. And promptly returned it, so he wasn't entirely a cad after all. One thing led to another, and soon he was saxaphonically serenading her from the street below her bedroom window, a musical enterprise which eventually earned him a ticking off at the local Magistrates, three demerit points for failing to stop after fourteen choruses of Footprints, and the partial admiration of the aforementioned Hortense, who was trying to sleep it off. I am not sure which it was being slept off.
If you have read this far, you will realise I didn't attend a jam session this week. I am sure it was fabulous. Might be a coincidence.