From world famous violinist to a murderer was the headline of our newspaper.
I knew the man a musical genius but so shy he only made recordings and appeared
on radio. You never get famous unless people see you in the flesh so magazines
can publish a picture of you shaking hands with politicians and see the blessed one
with movie stars, he was persuaded to give a life concert. The hall was full as he
entered the stage applause broke this was a highlight, no doubt a musical genius.
As his music filled hearts with the immense beauty, he became taller and his
trousers fell to his ankles. Dead silence, then nervous giggles that ended with
hysterical laughter from his audience who could not stop laughing, concert over.
He went to live in Alentejo in Portugal; no one knew him, got a job as a shepherd,
had a room next to the sheep, but took his meals in the kitchen. One day a tourist on
a walking holiday came to the small farm asked direction looked at the violinist and
said:” you are the one who lost his trouser on the stage.” The tourist told the story
of this to the farmer and his wife and the all laughed, dogs, cats and the mouse
in the corner. The musician got up went to the barn picked up a pitchfork and stabbed
the poor tourist to death and, at last, the laughter stopped.