Something obviously had to be done, and George went to London to see a specialist.
'Yes?' said the specialist.
'I-I-I-I-I-I-I—' said George.
'You were saying—?'
'Woo-woo-woo-woo-woo-woo—'
'Sing it,' said the specialist.
'S-s-s-s-s-s-s-s—?' said George, puzzled.
The specialist explained. He was a kindly man with moth-eaten whiskers and an eye like a meditative cod-fish.
'Many people,' he said, 'who are unable to articulate clearly in ordinary speech find themselves lucid and bell-like when they burst into song.'
It seemed a good idea to George. He thought for a moment; then threw his head back, shut his eyes, and let it go in a musical baritone.