A concertgoer turned to Mulla Nasrudin, sitting next to him, and criticized the voice of the woman who was singing. “What a terrible voice,” he said. “Do you know who she is?” “Yes,” said the Mulla. “She’s my wife.” “Oh,” said the embarrassed guest, “I beg your pardon. Of course, it is not her voice that is bad, it is that awful song she has to sing. I wonder who wrote it.” “I did,” said Nasrudin.