When I was a child, I had a fellow Armenian. It was called Oval.

I went with a friend to a classmate. His grandmother lived there. And so she liked the hairy Armenian boy, she didn’t go away from him, she said, “Go through, Oval, don’t be ashamed! Eat the cake, Oval, very delicious. Drink another compot, Oval.” And he was so embarrassed all the time, red.

And then, at one point, Oval came out of the table and went somewhere. A friend says, “Listen, grandmother, don’t call him Oval, please, he’s embarrassed. He’s called Arthur, and we call him Oval because he’s fat.”