Diaries 1969-1979_ The Python Years - Michael Palin [217]
It was ten years ago to the day that they moved to Southwold from Sheffield. Then he was full of hope and excitement and relief that a drab and unhappy salaried life was past, and he was back where he always wanted to be, amongst old churches, choirs and organ music.
Thursday, December 2nd, Oxford
Arrive at Oxford to speak in a debate only to find there is a strike of hotel workers at the Randolph so, rather than cross the picket lines, I make for the nearest hostelry in Broad Street and sort out the seven or so foolscap pages of my speech into some order, over a pint of Burton Ale.
The debate starts at 8.15 with the usual nonsense about elections and re-elections, spiced up a bit this year by the hawk-nosed grace of Benazir Bhutto – daughter of Pakistan’s Premier and next year’s President. She looks incongruous amongst the Tory rowdies who make up the Union establishment and bay most unpleasantly at some poor man who stands up to protest against ‘the scandal and malpractice within this Union’. I long to hear what the scandal is, but the hounds of reaction stalk him out of the hall. I feel embarrassed being in my DJ up at the front with these idiots.
About ten, I’m eventually called upon to speak. A warm and rather surprising round of applause. The speech goes well. Some good laughs and for some reason, after a bad joke half-way through, I pour the water glass provided over my head. Even bigger laughs, but it makes the ink on my script run and the pages stick together and the last part of the speech is less successful.
The whole thing ends, much to my relief, about 11.30. Talk to three or four undergraduates who are trying to set up a magazine called ‘Passing Wind’ in Oxford next year. They all seem rather earnest and sit me down in a big armchair and treat me far too like a guru. I hope they aren’t short on humour. One of their interview questions was (quite seriously) whether there was any relationship between Neil Innes and Eric Idle.
Monday, December 6th
Clive Hollick rings in the evening to say that Shepperton Studios did make a profit last year (£40,000) and have clinched the Superman deal. They want the stages for fifty-two weeks next year. Marlon Brando and Gene Hackman will be there, so it seems a good time to accept their offer of a directorship.
Wednesday, December 8th
A Python writing meeting in the afternoon. Quite substantial chunks of material from everyone – including a neat and funny bit by Eric with a magnificent creation – a Jewish Hitler called Otto the Nazarene, who wants more Lebensraum for the Jews.
Is it paranoia, or did I detect a sort of wariness of Palin/Jones material? Our stuff was received well, but both John and Eric unable to accept anything without qualifying their approval – and there also seemed to be a marked resistance to reading all our material.
I think this is partly the fault of late meetings. Two-thirty is not the time when everyone is freshest, and by 4.30 Graham was probably right when he said he felt we were ‘sated’. But I don’t approve at all of stifling Python at source. We always used to give everything anyone wanted to read a hearing, then throw it away.
Thursday, December 9th
Willy’s school concert. Willy plays a tree – one of the leading trees, I hasten to add. Quite a difference from the frightened little snowflake a year ago, who could hardly leave go of his teacher’s hand. This time he sang lustily. I noticed he was quite tall – and towered over Bonnie Oddie, who was next to him.
Sunday, December 12th
Round at Eric’s in Carlton Hill by 2.30 to say hello/goodbye at his party. Oysters and black velvet in the kitchen, plus strangely and brightly attired young folk and reassuringly stocky, functional frame of Derek Birdsall.1 Everyone seems to have seen the clip of me and Terry G on Film ’76, which shows that these casual little interviews are worth doing well.
On one end of the talent-packed sofa is Jagger. He’s smiling in a rather far-off way, but much chattier than when I last met him. He’s 33 as well –