Sounds like two skeletons copulating on a corrugated tin roof.
I like music that's more offensive. I like it to sound like nails on a blackboard, get me wild.
To sleep after sunrise was impossible on account of the number of flies which kept buzzing about the face.
I absolutely hate mowing the lawn. When I hear the mowers starting, I want to kill myself: it's the sound of death approaching. Hoovering's OK, but I never in my life wanted to have a lawn and certainly never wanted to mow one.
I hate music, especially when it's played.
The sound of the harpsichord resembles that of a bird-cage played with toasting-forks.
It wasn't that Nanny Ogg sang badly. It was just that she could hit notes which, when amplified by a tin bath half full of water, ceased to be sound and became some sort of invasive presence.
I can't stand the sound of fingernails on a chalkboard!
His voice was the most obnoxious squeak I ever was tormented with.
When you hear extraneous noise, they are bored in some way, so it makes me upset. Even coughing, I find, is passive-aggressive, usually.
Every morning I hear the alarm, it's like "BEEP BEEP BEEP" For second I'm like, "I could get used to that, just dream I'm in a techno club, or something."
There is no worse sound in the world than someone who cannot play the violin but insists on doing so anyway.
Theophilus Crowe's mobile phone played eight bars of "Tangled Up in Blue" in an irritating electronic voice that sounded like a choir of suffering houseflies, or Jiminy Cricket huffing helium, or, well, you know, Bob Dylan.
My trumpeting sounds like a goose farting in the fog.
Basically, my mother couldn't hold a tune and when I was a baby, a rather tactless baby, I would ask her not to sing... you can't get to sleep if someone is singing off key nearby.
When the snares don't hit together, it's just the most awful thing to hear.
Jamming is really the most awful, excruciating experience for me; I really don't enjoy it.
Man, it's hell to have a wife who thinks she can sing, and she can't.
My singing voice is somewhere between a drunken apology and a plumbing problem.
The radio makes hideous sounds.
I feel that too much singing annoys people.
It's hard to play with a bagpipe player. It's like an exotic bird. I love the sound, it's like strangling a goose.
It's such an insult that foul gas comes out of a hole in our butt with a sound to announce itself. It's the ultimate bad thing about being a person.
When a man is not disposed to hear music, there is not a more disagreeable sound in harmony than that of the violin.
