🎩🧐 #Tomfoolery 🎩🧐 Get your mustache properly primped. The very fancy white glove have been thrown. Will you keep a stiff upper lip… or return fire with fine proper diction? XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX Step 1: Drop Your Retort Remix, mash-up, or other craft your own civil savagery. Bring your best bars beau monde to the chap-hop scene. Go sharp and show these old chums that the water’s not too hot. XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX Step 2: Dress for the Duel Create cover art that feels like a Victorian vanity project gone wild. If your pinky is up high and your posture is perfect, you’re doing it right. XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX Step 3: Hijack the House of Lords Tag your creation with #Tomfoolery You can add this to your lyrics section: ==========☕🎩🍰========== Made for #Tomfoolery. Check the link for more details. [Placeholder link] ==========☕🎩🍰========== XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX Step 4: Mind Your Manners Comment on the original track so the gents know you’ve stepped into the lobby. XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX Step 5: Mix the Biscuits Blast your fellow duelists across the playlist banquet. They will appreciate your spittle. XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX Step 6: Echo the Etiquette Paste these rules (or the short link version) into your track description so the patrician addiction keeps multiplying. XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX And that’s it. Fix your collar and pour the tea. 🎩🧐 The tomfoolery has begun. XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX [Spoken, heavy piano idly wandering beneath] Oh dear... Oh, this is exceedingly unfortunate. I scarcely know how to say it. [long sigh] Ladies and gentlemen... A dreadful woe has befallen the evening. It seems my dear friend, Silver Flask, has lost his neat. I know. I know. Please contain yourselves. This is difficult for all concerned. Only moments ago he was full of purpose. Full of character. Full of... something rather expensive. And now... [looks into flask] Nothing. Not so much as a respectable glimmer. Not even enough left to disappoint a mouse. [shakes flask hopefully] Ah. No. Merely echoes. Cruel little echoes. I had hoped he might recover. That perhaps a final sip had been overlooked in some hidden corner. But alas... The physician has examined the patient. The diagnosis is empty. The prognosis is likewise empty. And yet... If we listen closely... I believe Silver Flask would wish us to carry on. As he himself would have done. Heroically. Repeatedly. And with very questionable judgment. [Heavy piano. Slightly unsteady tempo. As though the pianist has had one glass too many and keeps losing the thread.] [Verse 1] Now where'd everybody wander off? I was saying something grand. Something about destiny... Or hats. I had it in my hand. The room's gone crooked somehow. Or maybe that's just me. Sit down a spell beside me. There's something you should see. [Chorus] Brandy... Don't go yet. I wasn't finished talking. Brandy... I nearly made my point. I think. I had it. Just a moment ago. [Verse 2] You look exactly like her. Or maybe like the drink. Or maybe that's the trouble. I no longer rightly think. The candles all seem friendly. The piano understands. And every tune I start tonight Falls right through my hands. [Chorus] Brandy... You cure the lonely feeling. Brandy... You cause it too. Brandy... You're half the room still spinning. And half of it is true. [Bridge] They'll say I'm being foolish. They'll say I've had enough. They're probably correct. But correctness has never once improved a good evening. [Final Chorus] Brandy... To lost things. To found things. To things that never were. Brandy... To all the splendid nonsense I was absolutely certain I deserved. [Outro] Was there a woman? Was there a song? Was there a reason all along? ... Never mind. Pour one more. Brandy's listening.
