Otto Titsling

There are many things that Bette Midler should be immortalized for, and I think that the song of Otto Titsling has to be right up there as one of the top reasons!

I came across a mix-CD (not quite as satisfying sounding as mix-tape) that was made for me in 2003 (and hadn’t been played since!), and this song was on there. Needless to say, the track has been on repeat for most of the morning at work!

Very pleased to have rediscovered the song!

Her appearance on Johnny Carson’s show in 1991 is also hillarious in my opinion!

The below lyrics are kind of a mismatch of Beaches and Bette’s solo performances of the song (the solo versions are better I reckon!)

Otto Titsling, inventor and kraut,
had nothing to get very worked up about.
His inventions were failures, his future seemed bleak.
He fled to the opera at least twice a week.

One night at the opera he saw an Aida
who’s tits were so big they would often impede her.
Bug-eyed he watched her fall into the pit,
done in by the weight of those terrible tits.

Oh, my god! There she blows!
Aerodynamically this bitch was a mess.
Otto eyeballed the diva lying comatose amongst the reeds,
and he suddenly felt the fire of inspiration
flood his soul. He knew what he had to do!
He ran back to his workshop
where he futzed and futzed and futzed.

For Otto Titsling had found his quest:
to lift and mold the female breast;
to point the small ones to the sky;
to keep the big ones high and dry!

Every night he’d sweat and snort
searching for the right support.
He tried some string and paper clips.
Hey! He even tried his own two lips!

Well, he stitched and he slaved
and he slaved and he stitched
until finally one night, in the wee hours of morning,
Otto arose from his workbench triumphant.
Yes! He had invented the worlds first
over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder. Hooray!

Exhausted but ecstatic he ran
down the street to the diva’s house
bearing the prototype in his hot little hand.
Now, the diva did not want to try the darn thing on.
But, after many initial misgivings,
she finally did.
And the sigh of relief that issued forth
from the diva’s mouth
was so loud that it was mistaken by some
to be the early onset of the Siroccan Winds
which would often roll through the Schwarzwald
with a vengeance!
Ahhhhh-i!

But little did Otto know,
at the moment of his greatest triumph,
lurking under the diva’s bed
was none other than the very worst
of the French patent thieves,
Philippe DeBrassiere.
And Phil was watching the scene
with a great deal of interest!

Later that night, while our Brun Hilda slept,
into the wardrobe Philippe softly crept.
He fumbled through knickers and corsets galore,
’til he found Otto’s titsling and he ran out the door.

Crying, “Oh, my god! What joy! What bliss!
I’m gonna make me a million from this!
Every woman in the world will wanna buy one.
I can have all the goods manufactured in Taiwan.”

The result of this swindle is pointedly clear:
Do you buy a titsling or do you buy a brassiere?

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About Gari

Thirty-Two year old northern lad; living out in the Peak District and rediscovering life after having had a brain tumour.

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