(Click here if you can't see the panel above for some shonky brass action…)
Just picture the scene. Rap boy Durlanski here is in the cab on the way to the studio, but something's playing on his mind. The driver notices his anxious, furrowed brow.
"What's up lad?" he asks warmly, with the faint waft of Slivovitz on his breath. "You look worried."
Durlanski was instantly snapped out of his internalised worrying and replied to the cabbie's concerned questioning.
"Oh it's nothing much. I'm in the studio today. I've got a song in contention for our national Eurovision selection show, and I'm just polishing off the finished version today. But it still feels like there's something missing?"
"I see," said the cabbie helpfully. "What kind of song is it?"
"Well it's a rap song, but it's got a slow jazzy groove."
"Jazz you say,' the driver replied. "Sounds like you need some trumpets."
"Ooh yes, that's it! That would perfect! Thanks drive! But now that gives me another problem. Where am I going to find a trumpeter at such short notice? The session starts in twenty minutes and I've got no spare time to do it again."
The cab driver gave a hearty, avuncular laugh.
"It's your lucky day, son. It just so happens that I've got my bashed up old trumpet in the boot. I used to play a bit of jazz back in the day. Could I help any?"
"Why that's so kind of you! Yes! Could you do it? Could you?"
"Well I'll certainly give it a try. Just let me finish this bottle of Slivovitz to calm my nerves and I'm all yours…"
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