or a long time now, I've been making a buck or two by doing voice-overs. This is the art of reading a script for a client, be it for narration, commercials, or cartoons. An assignment I received on one occasion was for a series of live promotional shows to be done in big ballrooms of hotels across Canada. The client was Canadian Airlines, one of Canada's two major carriers, so you understand that it was a big account and not one you'd want to muff.
he night before the recording session I had been out getting spatially perplexed, and by the time I arrived at the studio, the effects of whatever I'd been doing hadn't quite worn off. The script was fairly straightforward; for every city, it started: "LIVE! From the Whatever the Name of the Ballroom Was in Whatever Town!" Everything went fine until I got to the one for Saskatoon.
he script said "LIVE! From the Marlboro Room..." I would have been okay, but because of my extracurricular activities, I had BUMBLEMOUTH. Bumblemouth. It can strike any time, anywhere someone has to read a script. It renders the most linguistically able into babbling fools who sound like they have two large ball bearings rolling around on their tongue.

"LIVE! From the Marrrrbolo Loom!" I announced.

"Take two."

"LIVE! From the Marblerow Roomel!"

"Take three."

"LIBE! From the Morraborra Root!"

"Take four."

"LIPE! From the Marlobolorrroom!"

...And so on...

"Take twenty-two."

"BLIGHT! Mar the burro fun room!"

t about this point, there is a pause in the festivities. I peer through the glass that separates the control room from the announcer's booth, and I see the representative from the airline dialling the phone.

"What's he doing?", I asked the engineer.

There was a long pause, and then the engineer's intercom clicked on:

"He's calling the hotel to see if he can book a different room."