"Yes, Professor Gibraltar," breathed Jaerrold.
He had flubbed the crucial arpeggio again.
"Jaerrold," said Gibraltar, laying his long, hairyhand on the boy's shoulder, "Vy is it zat ve are afrait of performink?"
"I'unno," Jaerrold shrugged.
"Coult it be zat ve feel... naket?"
"Gee, Professor..."
"Remoof your trousers!"
Jaerrold sighed, the soles of his feet aching in remembrance of last month's disciplinary caning.
"Yes sir," he muttered, removing his orange felt hunting breeches, the ones with the built-in mesh lining.
Professor Gibraltar's eyes flashed sadistically.
"Ah! I zee... Jaerrold, how can you expect to perform vith such an insignificant length of chorizo?!"
There, now is it funny, Maniacs? Asshole.