Satie Puns

It’s a satis-factory.

But I'm going to need a minuet to get a Handel on things, so please Holst on. There's no Haydn from reality, even if I can't stanza much more. I'm guessing the current madness originated in Britten - possibly during the Brahms age. Alas, I'm so Bizet writing my Chopin Liszt I will have to get Bach to you later when I'm Abel to compose my thoughts on how to overcome. GRRRRR.... I keep forgetting to purchase rainbow Schubert and must write that down. I also have to fix my microwave which Baroque earlier today when my son tried to Satie some vegetables. I do wish he would've refrained. Oh, I still have to go to the Barber as well. But, I digress... Once the madness calms down I hope y'all can Ravel in the moment. If you don't understand it, though, that's okay - it's all Grieg to me and I don't want to cause y'all any additional Strauss.

A Satis-factory

At the satis-factory

He was satis-phi-ed

It really begins at the satis-refinery.

Me: it's satis-FACTORY

At the shopping centre with the family, driving around the carpark looking for a space.

Me: How about that one?

The wife: Yeah, that ones satisfactory.

Me: That's where they make satises.

The joke, going over the wife's head: Whooosh!

The wife: What??

Me: Satises. At a satis factory.

Cue groaning.

I had made some oven fries to go with our dinner we were having, and towards the end of the meal I asked her if she wanted any more fries.

"No thanks; in fact, you could say that I'm satis-fried"