The William Tell Overture: An Alphabetical Anecdote

a) I used to live in student accommodation in the city of Edinburgh, sometimes dubbed “city of literature,” despite more people buying DVDs than books per annum. b) I spent my days in a box room writing mediocre essays about Austen and Dickens. c) In my spare time, I wrote appalling 900-page tracts about sexual frustration. I used self-deprecating humour to make life seem less terrible. d) This technique doesn’t have the same efficacy in my mid-twenties. e) But. f) During the second term a new student moved in. This student loved classical music, usually the happy bombast of Beethoven’s Ninth and similar. He would play his music at ludicrous volumes, shocked some bepimpled Scot might scorn the beauty of Beety. g) I scorned. h) Later, when our acquaintanceship was reaching its peak of begrudging tolerance, he got a girlfriend. i) At night, horrors emerged from his room. j) When sleeping with his girlfriend, he would sing embarrassing sexual songs to the William Tell Overture. Among the most horrible, sung by his girlfriend, was: Put it in, put it in, put it in in in, put it in, put it in, put it in in in, put it in, put it in, put it in in in, put it iiiiiiiiiiiinnnnn . . . put it in in in! k) And so on. l) This really happened. m) This setup became so dire, I would find replacement accommodation for the next term. n) And seek counselling. o) I no longer enjoy the William Tell Overture.