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Tree’s finest work, apart from hosting Winston, Eden, General Sikorski and others, was to exert as much pressure as he could to bring America into the war. He tells in his book of meeting leading American businessmen who, in 1941, were predicting a defeat for England – and the Chairman of Sears Roebuck at the time told him it would be a good thing anyway, Britain had become degenerate and Europe badly needed German leadership.

The servants here were very fond of Sir Ronald, and I think his death two years ago has left a vacuum which has not been filled. There is no-one of his stature for them to serve loyally and I think that the Pythons, sauntering around in Muppet Show T-shirts and torn off denim shorts, are really no substitute for the elegance of the Trees.

Graham seems to me to be the one who would fit best into that world. He always looks a little smarter than the rest of us, and his pipe adds a definite air of distinction. He’s also a fully qualified eccentric, and I think in twenty or thirty years he will be a well-matured loony, in the best traditions of the English privileged classes. During this afternoon’s session he fills up the teapot with hot coffee.

Apart from a break for lunch today we work assembling the script from 9.45 until 1.00 and 3.30 until 7.30.

And suddenly it’s there and ready.

There is now casting, reading-through and minor line re-writes left. John suggests a light day tomorrow, and nobody really argues. We’re all feeling rather pleased with ourselves.

Celebrity note: the Michael Caine/Marty Feldman rumours have taken a bizarre twist. It appears that neither Marty nor Michael Caine are on the island, but Marti Caine2 is.

Thursday, January 19th, Barbados

At breakfast today, TJ, John and I compare notes of books we’re reading. It turns out that all of us are reading books which irritate us. John is reading Twelfth Night and it’s driving him potty.

His indignation over Shakespeare is intense – even at this time of the morning. He claims that Shakespeare’s jokes wouldn’t even get on a BBC radio show these days. Terry J, no great supporter of Shakespeare, demurred here, feeling that this was just too harsh a judgement on anybody (apart from BBC Radio, presumably). But John will not be moved from his growing conviction that much of Shakespeare is second-rate and panto, and he wanders off in his Muppet T-shirt shouting ‘Zounds!’ and ‘Forsooth!’, much to the amazement of the local labour force who appear in the morning to rake the grass.

Terry J is reading Watership Down, which he doesn’t look to be much enjoying. He says he doesn’t think he’d like Richard Adams and finds it all very old-school, reds under the bed and unsatisfactory politically.1

Time passes strangely here. I feel as though these days have been weeks. There’s an all-embracing benevolence in the climate which means that at any time of day or night there is the same balmy, soft warmth. It’s difficult to punctuate time. And unnecessary, I suppose.

Friday, January 20th, Barbados

Why do things always happen to Graham? Today at breakfast he was spreading soft butter on a little piece of toast, and yet broke his knife. Extraordinary.

Casting completed this morning. Most of the main parts re-affirmed. Brian is Graham (unchallenged), Terry J Mandy (John being the only other one in the running, but it was felt that a motherly rat-bag was needed, and TJ’s women are more motherly than JC’s long, thin, strange ones), Eric Otto, me Pilate, and so on.

TJ feels that the Pythons should play as many parts as possible. John C feels we should be able to afford to take really good actors to play supporting parts, but the general consensus is that our rep company should avoid actors, and be composed of people who can act but will, more importantly, be good companions over ten weeks in Tunisia. John C suggests Ian Davidson (carried nem con) and Neil and Bernard McKenna go on to the list.

Today is our first cloudy day, which means that there are only