After an excursion to a movie theater to see an opera (because that’s how we do movie theaters, evidently), Fr Pickwick, in raptures, went to great pains to make sure he took full advantage of the opportunity to point out important musical nuances (because Mrs Pickwick has science under control, so he is taking musical education):

“What did you think of their diction? No mumbly singing. You could understand every single word, right?”

Small Pickwick, well on her way to musical enlightenment: “No. Actually, I could not.”

Fr Pickwick, with surprised eyebrows: “?”

Small P: “They were singing in German, Daddy, and I don’t know any German except Die Zauberflöte. I didn’t know that you did.”

Fr Pickwick, rather vanquished: “Oh. Well. No. But I meant, well…”

And the rest of the afternoon was devoted to a detailed description of the costumes involved, and the requisite construction of a new set of outfits for the Emperor Justinian and his wife and Victorian child, now about to go on an opera tour. The work was accompanied by dramatic arias, in neither German nor English, but the diction was perfect. Fr Pickwick could understand every word.