Diaries 1969-1979_ The Python Years - Michael Palin [267]
But sadly I agree with her assessment of Al’s commercial potential. His writing is solid, dependable, honest, sometimes poetic, but his sense of story and incident and development of plot is very low-key. As Julia said, she became involved in the set-ups, then nothing happened.
Afterwards across Compton Street to Bifulco, to buy sausages for supper tonight. Then to see Gerry Donovan in Harley Street.
Gerry has been in touch with Kieser.1 He is proposing to take out three of the more precarious teeth on my upper jaw and replace them with an acrylic denture plate. Dentures are essentially jokey – and I view the prospect of them with mixed feelings. Actually, I think I might quite enjoy the notoriety they will bring to my mouth. And of course I’ll be all ready for playing prisoners and old men in the new Python film.
Wednesday, February 1st
Just as I am recovering a little after last week’s lethargy, comes a considerable blow to the pride. Last week, whilst rooting out my piles of letters and scripts in an effort to clear the desk, I came across ‘Arrochense Los Cinturones’, the article I wrote after Tobago, and which foundered in New York a year ago when Lee Eisenberg left Esquire. It didn’t look bad in parts, a little long, so I trimmed, chopped, and with a swallowing of pride and an apologetic covering letter sent it off to nice Mr Alan Coren, editor at Punch.
Today it arrived back rejected, politely but firmly. ‘Sending back a Michael Palin piece could well be the sort of action that would cause posterity to desecrate my grave.’ But his reasons for rejection were very sound, absolutely correct and put me well in my place.
But I determined that in order to salvage my pride, I would write another article and send it off by return. It was to be about a man whose articles are constantly rejected.
Simon Albury came round and read both the new piece and Tobago, and, good friend that he is, gave them considerable thought, and finally confirmed my own suspicions that both mis-fired. His comments made me aware that I had fallen into the ‘Humorous Article’ trap. It’s not me, he said, it’s not the way I talk or the way I express myself- it’s an affected style. I feel a little better after our long chat and resolve not to waste any more time on the matter tomorrow.
I Bernard Kieser, a South African, had taken over the unenviable task of looking after my mouth after Robin Powell’s return to Australia.
Friday, February 3rd
Sit up in my room full of the joys of life and write a long letter to Al L, detailing my slow recovery from West Indian culture lag. I’m thirsty again for books, films, magazines, the lot, and am currently reading Harold Nicolson’s 1945-62 letters in a curious tandem with John Dean’s Blind Ambition.1 Two very different descriptions of the same subject – power. It does strange things to people. You can’t carry a comparison between Winston Churchill and Gordon Liddy too far, but the fact you can start at all is food for thought. I mean, both did very odd things in the name of power and both were rather aggressive, pugnacious men, concerned with the problems of leadership.
Interesting Nicolson observation that the Tory Party really were embarrassed by Winston’s presence after the defeat in ‘45. The problems of living with a living legend!
A lovely morning to myself, followed by a meeting in the Nag’s Head, Hampstead, with Gwen Taylor – who seems to be on for our leading rep lady in Tunisia. [We were still searching for someone to play Brian’s girlfriend, Judith.] Unassuming, straightforward and likeable – a good addition to the cast.
Drive from Hampstead out to Shepperton for a special viewing of Dominique, which has been laid on for the Shepperton staff, wives and families.
At the end Charles Gregson says, with his effervescent cheeriness, ‘Not bad for one million two.’ I thought it was very