Tweedledum’s chum stood with his hand resting lightly on the back of her arm, as if to turn her away from some potentially corrupting sight. I stood my ground, smiled, and introduced myself. I'm looking for Timothy Butler. That must be you. I calmed down enough to notice that Timothy Butler was clenching and unclenching his right hand in an effort at self-control. Tweedledum noticed it too. She rushed to his defense.
a painfully obvious joke that, in modern performance, is punctuated by a ba-dum ching! drum roll and cymbal crash to coincide with the collective groan of the audience.