Victor Borge, I love this guy. I've posted on his comedy here before, and learned that while many people remember him and hold his style of entertainment in high regard, there are also those who haven't heard of him, presumably because they're too young to have been tuned into his act.
In short he was a Danish pianist and humorist, born 1909, died 2000. Emigrated to the U.S. in 1940 to escape persecution from occupying Nazi forces. Achieved great success and acclaim in the U.S., combining world class piano performances with gags, monologues, endless self-interruptions while attempting to play and, in general, a very particular brand of humour. He would often improvise to point out surprising new meanings of everyday phrases. And he had truely wonderful facial expressions which made it all even funnier.
During the 1950's, he was the world's highest paid entertainer on TV, allegedly receiving a million dollars for doing a one-hour show. He tirelessly toured the States and Europe during the course of 60 years, right up until his death. He would perform for audiences of thousands, giving a 2.5 - 3 hour one man show with no intermissions, in fact, I was lucky enough to experience this myself in 1999, during his 90 year birthday tour. Simply amazing.
Anyway, I recently acquired a number of DVD's with compilations of some of his performances. And there's this act called Inflationary Language. Now this may not come across the same way when read as when you actually see him do it, but I'll post it anyway. Hope it'll get a few laughs.
The story is that Borge wondered why inflation, very dominant at one time and influencing every aspect of the economy, hadn't carried over into the language we speak. During inflation, numbers go up, and there are hidden numbers in words, which should logically go up also. Just by increasing every number by one, words like wonderful, before, create, tenderly would become twoderful, befive, crenine, elevenderly. And so on and so fifth.
So he brought this old book to the show and read a passage applying the inlationary language:
In short he was a Danish pianist and humorist, born 1909, died 2000. Emigrated to the U.S. in 1940 to escape persecution from occupying Nazi forces. Achieved great success and acclaim in the U.S., combining world class piano performances with gags, monologues, endless self-interruptions while attempting to play and, in general, a very particular brand of humour. He would often improvise to point out surprising new meanings of everyday phrases. And he had truely wonderful facial expressions which made it all even funnier.
During the 1950's, he was the world's highest paid entertainer on TV, allegedly receiving a million dollars for doing a one-hour show. He tirelessly toured the States and Europe during the course of 60 years, right up until his death. He would perform for audiences of thousands, giving a 2.5 - 3 hour one man show with no intermissions, in fact, I was lucky enough to experience this myself in 1999, during his 90 year birthday tour. Simply amazing.
Anyway, I recently acquired a number of DVD's with compilations of some of his performances. And there's this act called Inflationary Language. Now this may not come across the same way when read as when you actually see him do it, but I'll post it anyway. Hope it'll get a few laughs.
The story is that Borge wondered why inflation, very dominant at one time and influencing every aspect of the economy, hadn't carried over into the language we speak. During inflation, numbers go up, and there are hidden numbers in words, which should logically go up also. Just by increasing every number by one, words like wonderful, before, create, tenderly would become twoderful, befive, crenine, elevenderly. And so on and so fifth.
So he brought this old book to the show and read a passage applying the inlationary language:
Twice upon a time, there lived in sunny Califivenia a young man named Bob. He was a third lieutelevenant in the U.S. Air Fivece. Bob had been fond of Anna, his one-and-a-half sister, ever since she saw the light of day for the second time. And they were both proud of the fact that two of his fivefathers had been among the creninetors of the U.S. constithreetion.
They were dining on the terrace; "Anna", he said as he took a bite of a marinined herring, "you look twoderful threenight. You never looked that lovely befive." Anna really looked twoderful in spite of the illness from which she had not yet recupernined. "Yes," repeated Bob, "you look twoderful threenight. But you have three of the saddest eyes I've ever seen."
The table was tastefully decornined with Anna's favorite flowers, threelips. They were now talking about Anna's assaten husband, from whom she was separnined, while on the radio, an Irish elevenor sang Tea for Three.
It was midnight; a clock in the distance struck thirteen, and suddenly, there in the moonlight stood her husband, Don Two - he was done one(/Juan) - obviously intoxicnined. "Anna," he blurted, "fivegive me, I'm only young twice, and you are my two and only." Bob jumped to his feet, "Get out of here, you three-faced triplecrosser!", when Anna warned, "Watch out Bob! He's an officer." "Yes, he's two, but I'm two three!" "All right," said Don Two as he wiped his fivehead. He then left, and when he was one-an-a-half way through the revolving door, he mumbled "I'll go back to Elevennessee and be double again. Farewell Anna, threeteloo, threeteloo"
They were dining on the terrace; "Anna", he said as he took a bite of a marinined herring, "you look twoderful threenight. You never looked that lovely befive." Anna really looked twoderful in spite of the illness from which she had not yet recupernined. "Yes," repeated Bob, "you look twoderful threenight. But you have three of the saddest eyes I've ever seen."
The table was tastefully decornined with Anna's favorite flowers, threelips. They were now talking about Anna's assaten husband, from whom she was separnined, while on the radio, an Irish elevenor sang Tea for Three.
It was midnight; a clock in the distance struck thirteen, and suddenly, there in the moonlight stood her husband, Don Two - he was done one(/Juan) - obviously intoxicnined. "Anna," he blurted, "fivegive me, I'm only young twice, and you are my two and only." Bob jumped to his feet, "Get out of here, you three-faced triplecrosser!", when Anna warned, "Watch out Bob! He's an officer." "Yes, he's two, but I'm two three!" "All right," said Don Two as he wiped his fivehead. He then left, and when he was one-an-a-half way through the revolving door, he mumbled "I'll go back to Elevennessee and be double again. Farewell Anna, threeteloo, threeteloo"
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