Bullet with Butterfly Wings

You know how there are some things you just can't say, no matter how hard you try?--words that stick in your throat and wrap themselves round your tongue and get your insides all in knots? You try and you try, but it's too damn hard. It's like ramming an octopus through a doggie door. You'd think it could be done with a minimum of fuss, but what with tentacles everywhere and ink squirting in your face, it proves completely impossible. Eventually, it drives you straight round the twist.

In my case, those words are as follows: "Chlorine, carbon, cobalt, copper, tungsten, tin and sodium!" I was trying to make a new video, what with the Canadian Idol auditions having just been, and my having missed them, and all. I picked Tom Lehrer's Elements Song because of its narrow tonal range and familiar lyrics. It seemed like something even I, the worst singer in Canada, couldn't possibly screw up.

Take One

There's argon, krypton, neon, radon, xenon, zinc and rhodium
And chlorine, clarb--carb--pthbbbbbbbbt

Take Two

There's argon, krypton, neon, radon, xenon, zinc and rhodium
And chorbon, chlorine, chlorine--fuck!

Take Three

There's argon, krypton, neon, radon, xenon, zinc and rhodium
And cccckkkkkkkk KKKK c-c...piss!

Take Four

There's argonkryptonneonradonxenonzincandrhodium (gasp!)
And cobalt, carbon...er.... (long, long pause) Oh, I missed one.

Take Five

There's argon, krypton, (croaking noise), neon, radon, xenon, zinc and rhodium
And....Chlorine! Carbon! Clobber! Cunt!

Take Six (no, really!)

There's argon, krypton, neon, radon, zardon....
Zardon? What's that, the planet of the apes?

Take Seven (in which I try to cover it up with a lot of muttering, then screw up a pronoun in the penultimate line of the song)

There's argon, krypton, neon, radon, xenon, zinc, and rhodium
And cnnnrarboncbltcrrrrtungsten, tin, and sodium.
These are the only ones of whom the news has come to Harvard...oh, shit!

I never did get it right.

I've had similar problems in the past with such tongue-twisters as "Un tremuoto, un temporale, un tumulto generale", and "Che piacer, che piacer che sarà!"--anything, that is, with several similar-sounding words in succession--but I've always worked 'em out with a bit of patience. This phrase, however, is a horse of a different colour. I can't even say it slowly. The devil himself must've strung those words together! I can't even think them with any degree of clarity.

Fortunately, I am still capable of repeating a single phrase ad nauseam, so I did manage to scrape the following small offering together:

What do you think--the Smashed Pumpkins going to be needing a new lead singer any time soon?