“I’m looking for a booking agent. You see, me and my mates are thinking about putting our old band back together and we need an agent. I understand you’re the best.”

“That’s me. Booking agent for the stars. I handle all the big names. The Allman Brothers Band, Ricky Martin, Pet Shop Boys, they’re all my clients.

“Good, because we really want a good agent.”

“Wait a minute. I didn’t say I’d represent you. First I need to ask you a few questions.”

“Fire away.”

“Do you have a hit CD like Santana, Steely Dan or Sting?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Can you rock like Metallica or spew blood like KISS?”

“Er, no.”

“Do teenage girls love you like the Backstreet Boys or ‘N Sync?”

“Not recently, but there was a time…”

“Tell someone who cares. Can you rap like Tone Loc or rhyme like Wesley Willis?”

“Uh?”

“You said you were ‘getting the band back together.’ When was the last time you folks played?”

“Well, we’ve all kept busy. We may not have played as a band, but we still have our chops.”

“When was the last time your band played?”

“Uh. . . 1969.”

“1969? Your band hasn’t played in over thirty years and you want me to book you?”

“If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Look, man, I handle stars. You got that? Proven talent like John Hiatt, Dixie Chicks and Del The Funky Homosapien. I don’t deal with nobodies and I don’t deal with bands that haven’t played in a generation. Got it?”

“Yeah, I think so. Thank you for your time.”

“Call me when you’re somebody (click).”

“Well, George, that’s the fifth turn-down this morning. That agent was so rude he wouldn’t even let me introduce myself.”

“Don’t let it bother you Paul. After thirty years it’s kind of reassuring that some things haven’t changed.”

“I suppose so. I guess I’ll call Ringo and ask if he has room for any more All Starrs.”