Once, in December 1944, Bing Crosby returned from a trip to the Philippines where he was entertaining the US troops. At the airport, he bumped into Bob Hope.
How’re you doin’ buddy? Hope inquired, cheerfully.
Aaaarrrggghhhh!! said Crosby. I’m in agony. Aaarrrggghhhh!
Good God, man, said Hope, aghast. What’s wrong with you?
I caught the pox in a Manila whorehouse. Aaaarrrggghhhh!!
You did what?
What sort of pox?
Over there, they got all sorts. Blue gonorrhea. Purple chlamydia. Aaaarrggghhh!! Yellow crab lice.
Really, said Hope. And what kind did you catch?
Aaaarrrggghhhh!! said Crosby before composing himself. Squaring his shoulders, he looked Hope straight in the eye and crooned, I’m screaming with a white syphilis.