Much, much, much, much farther

Yes, it's Christopher Peterson again, as the Divine Miss M, but this time we'd invited a dozen or so people from Robert's bridge club to join us for dinner at La Te Da and then see the show.

Dinner -- upstairs, in the "private" room, though it's a porch without walls -- was a lovely time. I wasn't worried about that.

I thought that Chris and his show might be a bit much for the half-dozen ladies of a certain age we'd asked along.

He's a class act, compared to the skank divas rampant on this little island, and his singing voices and that malleable face were as astonishing as ever. . . .

But when he got to Miss Bette's "faaaavorite story I heard last year," about apples with two flavors, "told to me by a nun," I wondered if there'd be spit-takes, or pacemaker failures, or worse.

There was hysterical laughter and applause, of course. As Woody Allen so famously said, sex is dirty only if you do it right.

I can't repeat the joke here (so much depends on inflections and timing). Ask me about it the next time you see me.