Note to future interrogators.
If you want to torture information out of me, just sit me in a room whilst my mother “plays” Bohemian Rhapsody on her claranet. I say “plays”….more like causes her instrument so much pain that it wails in the desperate hope that if it makes a sound then she will stop performing such hideous crimes against music against it.
I’ll sing like a canary for you. Honest.
