Diaries 1969-1979_ The Python Years - Michael Palin [227]
A good ideas session. We talked until four. Cleaned up the ending a good deal. The Centurion who can’t pwonounce his ‘r’s has become quite a leading figure now – in fact he’s probably Pontius Pilate.
At lunch we all split for an hour. Anne had made sandwiches. I felt bad at ignoring them, so Eric and I packed a bag of sandwiches and Perrier water and walked into Regent’s Park, sat and ate our lunch in the rose garden. Rather sweet.
Eric tells me he’s becoming vegetarian. Presumably under the influence of George H.
Tuesday, March 8th
To Buchanan House, Holborn, to meet the Shepperton Studios Board. First of all we had lunch – pâté, beef, cheese and no wine – and I met fellow director Charles Gregson, ebullient, talking in that enthusiastic upper-class rush. His hair was longer and he was much younger than I expected. Rather school-boyish in fact. He’s the Managing Director. Burrows is the Financial Director, older, quieter, rather neat and shy. Fawcett, the Company Secretary, is the only man from Mars. He talks in a delicious, rich, aristocratic rumble, which he uses tantalisingly rarely. He wears a perfectly tailored pin-striped suit and an elegant pastel shirt with white collar. Have a feeling he is either less or more intelligent than he appears. Probably less.
Clive [Hollick] displays the sort of sharpness, easy intelligence and businesslike charm which must have put him where he is. He handles the Chairman’s job as if he’d been used to running things all his life – but at the same time creates a good, participatory working atmosphere.
The board meeting begins with financial reports. Then our debtors are discussed – Lisztomania, Ken Russell’s last great folly, a monumental flop, is top of the list.
Brando is expected on March 21st. Discussion as to what we should lay on for him. Charles Gregson suggests, rather pathetically, putting flowers in his room. I suggest a couple of bottles of champagne might be more realistic.
The only real excitement of the meeting is discussion of the highly confidential Ramport negotiations. Ramport are the production company of The Who, who already have an almost permanent base in one of the Shepperton studios. They want a 999-year lease on an area of property within the Shepperton complex, including the old house, the lawn in front, some office buildings and J and K Studios (both small).
The asking price is nearly half a million pounds, which would, at a stroke, clear Shepperton’s debt, pay for major improvements to the heating system and generally set the place up on a very sound financial basis. Against it are the usual arguments over losing any part of a film studio. Allegations of asset-stripping will be revived.
Thursday, March 10th
March has been delightful so far. Helen drops me in Regent’s Park and I walk across this beautiful expanse, flanked on one side by Nash terraces and the other by the copper dome of the new mosque.
Eric very positive and clearly the one who’s done the most work on our two ‘separate’ days since Monday. He has worked out a putative running order which is a good basis for discussion. By twelve we are all there, including Gilliam, who has been at the final dub for Jabberwocky.
High point of the day is writing an extremely sick piece for use at charity shows (which we are all rather tired of being involved in). A speech about the ‘so-called handicapped’ who get so much attention anyway, and why should not the carrot of financial reward be dangled before those who are, by no fault of their own, normal, etc, etc. I don’t know who’ll be brave/foolhardy enough to do it. At the Albert Hall.
We decide to send a very lushly packed gift box of sexual aids for Ina’s wedding present and a golden foot for Robert Osterberg1 is to be inscribed ‘To Our Dear Friend Roy Ostrichberger, From Monty Python – In Lieu of Fee’. I’m against ‘In Lieu of Fee’, but was out-voted.
Friday, March 11th
Decide not to send a gift pack of sexual aids to Ina for her wedding present. Still, it was funny at the time.
Down to Gerry Donovan, my first