Last night I had a dream that a large magazine, think Vanity Fair or The New Yorker, hired John Cleese to install a display of bricks in their office. He spent a week, and the display consisted of crooked, broken bricks, haphazardly piled, with mortar dripping out all over the place. It looked like a work of art.
The magazine was most unhappy, and publicly complained and ridiculed Mr. Cleese on his bricklaying skills, saying, “If Mr. Cleese performed comedy the way he lays bricks, he would have failed as a comedian and would probably have become a decent bricklayer.”
When asked about his bricklaying skills, Mr. Cleese explained that he had thought they hired him for his interpretation of a pile of bricks and added, “If you want bricks installed properly you hire a bricklayer, not a bloody minister of funny walks!”
