String of sausages or string of pearls? Organ-grinders may not have been taken seriously in novels before Madame Bovary, or in theatre before Woyzeck, but the provincial press is full of them: fighting, drinking, singing scurrilous libels, dying miserable deaths. There’s some great stuff, particularly in German publications, as, somewhat later, welfarism takes hold in order to prevent this kind of thing.
- Monkeys here, monkeys there, monkeys everywhere
Victor Hugo puts on his black cap.
- Unlucky organ-grinder-ballad-singers
Kasper Lutz in German (occasionally), nameless in French and English?
- Where did Petersburg’s organ-grinders go in winter?
I fear only some of them migrated with the swallows. Featuring Boris Sadovskoy, Yuri Norstein, Aleksey Batalov, Rolan Bykov and Gogol.
- So where does Silvio Berlusconi stand on organ-grinders?
Unfortunately Alan Friedman’s excellent authorised bio, My Way, leaves us none the wiser.
- Donald for Dalai Lama, or Pope, or Caliph, or something
A Trump Taj Mahal Casino multitrack jukebox, to help make religion rather better than it has been, again.